


Gwyrdd Arwar - Book The First

by inspiritedmama



Series: Gwyrdd Arwar [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dumbledore Bashing, Dumbledore is a Wanker, Everyone lives - Except Voldy, F/F, F/M, Fluffy, Good Slytherins, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mentor Snape, Remus Lives, Sirius Lives, Slow Build, Slytherin Harry, Slytherin!Harry, Snape Lives, Teacher-Student Relationship, Weasley Bashing, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 41,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspiritedmama/pseuds/inspiritedmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-imagining of the Harry Potter series in which Harry Potter is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor.</p><p>This will be a slow-build as I've no interest in writing a majorly underage Potter/Snape relationship. I plan to write my way through all the books, developing the characters and relationships with a good amount of fluff and angst.</p><p>Right now, the relationship tags are just indicators of what is to come, there are no slashes or relationships in this particular work.</p><p>This work is a gift for my sis, Chewbecca, and bestie, Starlightwolf <3</p><p>Obviously, and sadly, I'm not JK Rowling. The characters aren't mine, I don't own anything. Just playing with them a little!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One Where Harry Rides a Train and Makes Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cunning and Ambition - Book One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/261823) by [MinaAndChao](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaAndChao/pseuds/MinaAndChao). 



Harry hunched over his textbooks, one ear carefully listening for any sound that the Durselys had woken. Vernon and Dudley were easy, odds were he would feel then stomping down the hall to the smallest bedroom. But Petunia, she was quiet, and she always stopped outside of his door, listening he imagined. What she hoped to hear he was never quite certain.

He clutched a banged up flashlight in his hand, the light that illuminated the text below - a list of common antidotes- was yellow, fading as the batteries died. He couldn’t believe his luck when he discovered in and amongst all the broken toys and occupied most of the space in his new room a flashlight that actually worked. The tip just needed to be tightened, apparently Dudley was too daft to check it and had chucked it into the spare room along with everything else he’d managed to destroy.

Normally he would have turned off the light long before now. For the last month since he had received his letter - the letter that had changed everything - he had been carefully rationing the batteries. It wouldn’t do to pull out his texts during the day. Besides, Vernon and Petunia had far more work than daylight hours for him to do. Weeding the garden, fixing the meals, the laundry alone took up most of the week. Even if he hadn’t had his chores, he couldn’t imagine they would be pleased to find him reading “Magical Draughts and Potions” or the “Dark Forces - A Guide to Self Protection”. Harry had to stifle a laugh at the idea of him sitting in the lounge with “A History of Magic” on his lap.

No, all of his studying had to be done at night, after he was certain they had all gone to sleep. And tonight, tonight was the last night he would need his batteries. Tomorrow night he would be at Hogwarts. He had asked Uncle Vernon that evening after supper if they would please drive him to the station. Vernon had only grudgingly agreed because they would already be in London to have Dudley’s tail removed before the start of term at Smeltings.

This time Harry managed a laugh. Terrified he clapped both hands over his mouth, his ears listening for any slight change in the silence that was Number Four Privet Drive at night. Satisfied he had not woken anyone, he picked up the flashlight and continued to read, a smirk still plastered on his face.

Despite the lateness of his night, Harry was awake at dawn. He packed and repacked his trunk until he was confident every item on the list, carefully folded and in his front pocket, were tucked away inside. Hedwig, the beautiful snowy owl that Hagrid had purchased for him was locked in her cage. Her large intelligent eyes seeming to smile, as though she understood they would be escaping this place… at least for a little while.  
“There you are boy!” Vernon announced with a sneer. “Platform nine, and right there, platform ten. Seems they haven’t gotten around to building yours yet! Have a good term.” His sneer turned vicious as he got into the car, driving away leaving Harry and his cart bewildered on the platform.

Looking down at his ticket, Harry frowned. He only had about ten minutes until the train would leave, and no where could he see a sign for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Remembering back to his only other experience with anything magical, he debated pulling out his wand and tapping on the bricks in between the platforms. Maybe… maybe he would just know?

“-- packed with muggles --”

Harry spun around to see a cheerful looking redheaded woman herding a large group of children pushing carts, and one of the carts had a cage with an owl! Nervously he approached. He stopped, staring as one of the older looking boys pushed his cart straight through the brick and disappeared. Swallowing, he spoke up.

“Ex-excuse me?” She turned to look at him, “C-could you tell me how t-to,” he gestured helplessly at the spot where the boy had disappeared. Her eyes softened and she nodded. He thought he heard her whisper something about “muggleborn” before she explained all he had to do was push the cart straight into the wall.

Screwing up his face he took a deep breath, praying he wouldn’t crash into the wall and spill his belongings everywhere, he made for the spot at a half run. Taking a deep breath and bracing for impact, he blinked…

And found himself standing on a platform surrounded by witches and wizards of all sorts. He could barely hear a thing over the sound of all the excited chatter and various animal noises. For a moment, all he could do was stand as he took in the great steam engine with “Hogwarts Express” emblazoned on the side.

He struggled trying to pull his trunk off his cart and onto the train when two redheads appeared on either side of him.

“Looks heavy, need-”

“-a hand there mate?”

He barely had time to nod at the identical tall boys before they hefted up the trunk between them and squared it away.

“T-thanks,” he stammered.

“Not a problem, we’re -”

“-always willing to help-”

“-little firsties. You-

“-never know when-”

“-one of them might-”

“-be a partner in crime.” They chimed together. With a conspiratorial wink they turned and walked over to a group of older students who greeted them enthusiastically.

Then he heard a voice,

“Hey, you there!”

Harry turned and started as he recognized the pale blond boy he had met at Madame Malkin’s. He was flanked by two tall blonds, his parents Harry assumed. His heart tightened in his chest, if it wasn’t for You-Know-Who it might have been Harry standing there, his mum looking teary while his dad proudly clapped him on the shoulder. Blinking away any sign of emotion he smiled and raised a hand in a friendly wave.

Harry found himself following the boy to a train compartment that was already occupied by two hulking boys and a dark haired girl who was painting her nails a vibrant green.

“I’m Draco, Draco Malfoy, by the way.” The blond drawled in introduction. “That’s Crabbe, and Goyle.” The two large boys grunted in acknowledgement although Harry had no idea which was which. They were both peering into a large bag of candy and didn’t seem overly interested in anything else. “And that’s Pansy.” The girl glanced up and waved the nail paint brush at him before turning back to study her nails critically.

Harry looked down at the hand the boy had extended him. He took it, “I’m Harry, Harry Potter.”

Pansy dropped the brush, staring. Draco tightened his grip on Harry’s hand, pulling the smaller boy towards him his silver eyes flashing. “You’re lying,” he hissed. His free hand swept Harry’s mop of black hair aside and his eyes widened as he saw the scar.

“No way!” he breathed. “I knew you were our year but… this is a bit of luck! I was just about to go looking for you.”

Harry looked at Draco confused. He managed to pry his hand free and edged towards the door. “Find me? Why would you want to do that?”

“You’re Harry Potter.” Draco answered as if that answered everything. He sprawled himself out on the bench and then glanced up at Harry. His eyes studying the way the smaller boy was still shifting towards the door and rolled his eyes. “I wanted to make sure you made friends with the right sort of people.”

Pansy picked up the brush and pulled out her wand. She muttered an incantation and the spot of green nail polish on the floor vanished. Harry, distracted from Draco’s strange comment, sat down. “That was cool!” he told her.

“What?” she looked confused. “Oh! The cleaning spell. It’s really simple.” She took in his eager face and nodded in understanding. “You were raised with Muggles, weren’t you.” Her voice carried with it a touch of something that sounded like pity mixed with condescension.

“My aunt and uncle,” he mumbled by way of explanation.

“Well that explains this.” Harry turned at the sound of Draco’s drawl and blinked as he snatched the glasses off Harry’s face. Pulling out his wand Draco cleared his throat and intoned, “Occulus Reparo” and taped the bridge which had been mended with many layers of Sellotape. He handed back the glasses and as Harry’s vision returned he saw a satisfied smirk on Draco’s face.

“Uhh, thanks.”

Pansy returned to her nails, pulling out a silver to embellish them. “I can’t believe they put you with Muggles.”

“Well, umm.”

Harry was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of the food cart. Harry had never seen so many different kinds of sweets, his gold coins burning a hole in his pocket he bought at least one of everything and settled back into the compartment surrounded by his haul.

Instead of returning to his family, the conversation turned to Hogwarts and which house they thought they would wind up in.

“If the Hat puts me in Hufflepuff I think I would leave. Go to Beauxbatons or something,” Pansy declared.

“I’ll be in Slytherin.” Draco’s tone left no room for doubt.

Pansy and Draco continued to discuss the houses, speaking with disdain of a house called Hufflepuff, and out and out dislike of Gryffindor. Harry could only listen, munching happily on a Chocolate Frog. He hoped that at the very least he wouldn’t be put in one of those two houses, but his tummy, happily full of sweets made his brain kind of hazy. Only half listening as the country-side slid by he jumped as the door to their compartment flew open.

In it stood a girl with the bushiest hair he’d ever seen, flanked by a pudgy lost looking boy and another redhead. Briefly Harry wondered if something about being magical caused an overabundance of redheads but he was not permitted to think on it further.

“A toad. Have you seen one? Neville here,” she tipped her head to the lost looking boy, “Has misplaced it.”

Before Harry could speak Draco spoke, his voice dripping with contempt, “We have not.” His haughty glare swept over the group and he sniffed. Clearly unwilling to continue the conversation.

The girl looked at him, opening her mouth twice as though to speak before she pursed her lips and closed the door.

“Ugh, muggles,” Draco drawled.

“Muggles? At Hogwarts?” Harry stared at the door as if the trio would reappear so he could study them.

“Muggleborns,” Pansy explained. “You think so Draco?”

“The girl, certainly. Did you see the way she dressed? But I bet that redhead was a Weasel. Just how many of them are there?”

Harry laughed briefly along with Pansy and Draco, remembering his earlier thought on the abundance of redheads before his mind latched on to something Pansy said. His face fell, “What’s wrong with muggleborns?”

“Well, they aren’t exactly our kind you know?” Draco replied.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “My mother was a muggleborn.”

Draco had the good graces to look chastised before he shrugged. “Not the same.”

The mood in the compartment was strained. Pansy valiantly tried to engage Harry in a conversation about Hogwarts and he found himself being drawn in. Despite his excitement, as the train drew closer he admitted he was nervous. What if they discovered it was all a mistake? He swallowed heavily at the thought of being sent back to the Dursley’s before the school year was finished.

To distract himself he peppered Pansy, and then Draco who joined in the conversation after brooding to himself for a while, with questions about the Houses, classes and grounds. The sky grew dark outside and they changed into their school robes before the train began to slow.

Harry took a deep breath, this was it. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry awaits.


	2. The One Where Harry Surprises the Adults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes a life-(and series) altering choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sections were taken right from the books as well... JK did a good job! And they're her characters, not mine.

The older students headed off the train towards waiting carriages while Harry and the other first years stood around awkwardly. The air which had been so pleasantly warm at King’s Cross was now cold and damp. As Harry waited, shivering, he briefly wondered if they were even in England anymore. A rough, familiar voice interrupted his musings.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Hagrid towered over the students, a lantern held in his huge hand as he grinned down at Harry. He herded the first years down a steep path. The trees grew thick on either side of them and the nervous chatter had fallen silent. Most students, like Harry, were too focused on making sure they didn’t slip and fall.

So focused was Harry that he didn’t notice Draco had stopped and he walked right into the blond boy’s back. Surprisingly, Draco was too distracted by the sight in front of him to say anything. As Harry looked up, he understood.

There, perched almost impossibly on a cliff at the far side of a dark lake. Was the largest castle Harry had ever seen. Lights twinkled cheerily through the fog from all the turrets and towers. This was a school? It was more fitting for a king or queen he thought, picking at the hem of his robe. He didn’t move as the other students pushed past him, scrambling to climb into the boats that were beached along the shore.

“Oiy Harry, come on,” Draco pulled him out of his daze towards a boat where Pansy and a muscular boy Harry hadn’t met yet waited. As soon as Harry sat down the boat began to move. He gripped the edges tightly as they headed across the lake. He gulped, wondering what he would do if the boat tipped. The Dursleys had not thought it important that their nephew learned to swim.

"Heads down!" called Hagrid from the lead boat.

The boats passed through a wall of hanging ivy into a rocked walled harbor. He managed to climb out of the boat without capsizing it and followed behind Pansy and the boy who had introduced himself as Blaise up a narrow stairwell.

With every step, Harry’s smile grew. Everything about this place would have sent Vernon and Petunia into fits. From the torches lining the walls, to the pictures that moved - gossiping and eyeing the students as they walked passed. He sniggered to himself, once he had recovered from the shock, at the idea of Dudley coming face to face with one of the ghosts that had swooped down over the line of first years before vanishing through a wall.

No, there wasn’t anything about this place that the Dursleys wouldn’t have declared freakish. And so, naturally, Harry felt right at home.

Hagrid stopped in front of a large set of doors that were too big even for the giant of a man, and raised a meaty fist to knock three times. The doors swung open with a creak to reveal a wiry, stern-faced witch . Harry immediately noted her as someone he did not want to cross. Judging by the way Draco straightened up behind him it would seem the other boy had similar thoughts.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes cut through the students who immediately began straightening ties and smoothing robes before she turned on her heel and left.

Harry desperately tried to flatten his hair and then nudged Draco as he overheard the redheaded boy who had accompanied the bushy-haired girl telling those around him about how they would have to fight some sort of troll to show which house they would be in.

They listened to the panicked reactions and giggled amongst themselves. A glance over at Pansy and Blaise indicated the two had overheard as well.

“Move along,” Harry jumped as Professor McGonagall seemed to appear out of thin air to lead them into the hall.

He had no idea how he managed to keep his feet moving to propel him, along with the rest of the first years, through the hall. Four large tables dominated the room, filled with students where were straining to get their first proper look at all the first years. Normally such attention would have caused Harry to shrink but he was completely transfixed by the ceiling, or rather - lack thereof. Candles floated aimlessly above their heads against what looked like the sky. A cloud shifted and Harry caught sight of the moon before it was covered again.

“It’s bewitched,” the bushy haired girl was telling her companions. “To look like the sky. I read about it in, ‘Hogwarts, A History’.” Harry wondered where he could get himself a copy as the group stopped in front of a long table filled with what he assumed were teachers.

Craning his neck around he managed to see a stool with a beaten up hat sitting on it. Before he had time to register anything else, the Hat opened its mouth?!

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  


Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;   


Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The students and teachers applauded as the Sorting Hat finished and McGonagall walked up with a scroll in her hand.

Harry watched as students were sorted into various Houses, each House bursting out with cheers as they gained a new member. Each time someone was sorted into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff he head Draco sniff disdainfully beside him.

When Draco was called up McGonagall didn’t even properly put the Hat on his head before it called out, “SLYTHERIN!” With a satisfied smile he joined the group at the furthest table. Harry watched as Pansy was also sorted into Slytherin. The pair eyed him curiously as he was called up.

Trying his best to ignore the whispers that swept through the Hall he gripped the seat of the stool tightly, closing his eyes as the Hat slipped down over his ears.

“Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes --and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting.... So where shall I put you?"

Harry thought about the friends he had made on the train and thought desperately, “Please Slytherin. Please, Slytherin,” over and over.

"Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that you’d be in? Well, if you're sure better be --

“SLYTHERIN!"

A hushed silence fell over the crowd. McGonagall nearly dropped the Hat as she took it off his head. He caught Draco’s eye and the entire table had stood up. As Draco and the others began to clap and holler he made his way over and squeezed himself between the blond and Pansy.

He glanced up at the Head Table and saw the ancient looking wizard in truly garish robes studying him with a strange look on his face. The rest of the teachers seemed to be looking at him with similar expressions. In particular, a pale dark-haired man in black robes. His hands were curled up under his chin, his eyes dark.

Harry’s study of the man was interrupted by the another student being called up to be Sorted. As Blaise Zabini settled himself into a seat across from them, Harry returned his gaze to the dark professor. He nudged Draco,

“Who’s that? Sitting next to Professor Quirrell?”

Draco looked up and nodded at the man whose gaze was still fixed on them. “That’s Professor Snape. He’s the Potions Master.”

Harry gulped. He had been looking forward to Potions class in particular. It seemed like fun the way different components reacted together. But now? Something about the way that Snape studied him made Harry very uncomfortable. He stared glumly down at his plate, barely listening to Dumbledore - the wizard in the frighteningly neon robes - as he listed off some truly strange words.

“He’s a little… odd.” Blaise commented as food appeared in front of them out of thin air.

For one sickening moment Harry thought Blaise had been referring to him. He shrank down into his chair trying to make himself as small as possible.

“Odd? Father says he’s perfectly mad,” drawled Draco as he reached past Harry to spear a bit of lamb and set it on his plate.

Relieved, Harry joined in the laughter and filled his plate. He was determined to try absolutely everything. Never in his life had Harry been allowed to eat whatever he wanted, as much as he wanted. Paying little attention to the conversation around him he happily stuffed himself.

  
Yes, he could get used to living here.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions and all that are super appreciated! I hope you enjoyed it.


	3. The One Where Harry Goes To Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I took some stuff straight out of the book. Snape's speech is too perfect not to use!

Later, feeling pleasantly full and a little sleepy, he followed Draco and the other first years behind Gemma Farley. She had introduced herself as the Prefect, which Harry assumed was some sort of special position given how the others responded.

They made their way through the castle, Harry frantically wondered if he would ever be able to find his way back, down a dark set of stairs to a corridor with a blank section of stone. Confused, he watched Gemma as she smiled down at them.

“Now, this is the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory, yes… I promise.” She smiled knowingly and turned to the wall. “Belladonna.”

The wall folded into itself like the one in Diagon Alley and revealed a small passageway into a green-lit room. Once everyone was inside the wall closed up and Harry had a chance to look around. 

Almost everything was either green or silver. The sofas looked so comfortable Harry wanted nothing more than to curl up in one and relive this day over and over in his memory. The warm feeling of having enough to eat, and dessert besides! and of being somewhere far far away from Dudley washed over him and he stood here, a stupid smile on his face, listening to Gemma.

“Welcome to Slytherin first years!” Gemma smiled warmly at them. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. You might have heard how Slytherins are all dark witches and wizards. And, I’ll be honest. That’s true.”

Harry gulped, what on earth had he gotten himself into? Dark witches and wizards? His mind flashed to Professor Snape and he found he could believe her easily. He wondered if it was too late to change his house.

“But!” she held up a finger, “The other houses have too. Although you won’t hear them admitting that. We’re like our emblem, the snake. Cunning, sly, clever, and all too often misunderstood. And there are benefits to having such a dark reputation. You think someone in your class is going to nick your stuff once you’ve hinted at all the curses you’re learning down here? No, I thought not.”

He thought back to the snake he’d set on Dudley back in the zoo and grinned. Perhaps, being a snake wouldn’t be too bad?  
“What you won’t hear all the other Houses telling you about Slytherin is that we stick up for our own. We’re elites, and now you are one of us. I’ll be honest, once you start moving around the castle you’ll be glad for that. The other Houses, especially those noble, brave Gryffindors,” she paused here as a few of the first years snickered. “They don’t like us much. Too full of their own glory to understand. You might find you have to stand up for yourself or even, teach them a lesson. Do it, however you can. Just…”

She winked at them.

“Don’t get caught.”

Harry thought about her words all the way down to the room he, Draco and Blaise were sharing with a boy who introduced himself as Nott. He liked the idea of being part of an elite group. The idea of people sticking up for him sounded wonderful. 

That night, for the first time Harry could ever remember, he fell asleep happy, full and comfortable in the safety of his giant four poster bed. 

The next morning at breakfast Harry was acutely aware of the strange whispers and stares he was too preoccupied to notice last night. They began the moment he entered the hall. Confused he sat down between Blaise and Pansy, surprisingly not tempted by the breakfast feast before him. 

Before he could think of how to ask why everyone was looking at him without sounding like an arrogant git he heard two voices behind him. 

"Hiya Harry!" the redheaded twins from the platform chimed. 

"Shoulda told us who you were mate!"

"Yeah, we could have prepared something extra special."

"But way to keep everyone on their toes!"

"We salute you!" With a very strange salute the two boys left and wandered over to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the gob smacked looks of everyone else. Gemma made her way from the other end of the table and bent down next to Harry, a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“Everything alright there Potter? Fred and George Weasley can be…” she trailed off as if uncertain how exactly to describe the twins.

Harry nodded, touched at the Prefect’s concern. “They helped me with my bags on the train. They were just, umm… saluting me?”

Gemma laughed and straightened. Apparently that explanation was enough to satisfy her, although one glance at Blaise and Draco and he felt as though he’d made some serious error.

“You did not make friends with a Gryffindor, let alone two. And Weasleys at that!” Blaise looked personally offended.

“I uhh…” He fumbled for the right words. Slowly piecing together his faux pas. 

“Oh come off it, Blaise,” Pansy commanded, sounding bored as she poured blueberry syrup on she pancakes. “You know Fred and George’s reputation. Merlin only knows why the Hat put those two in Gryffindor. They’re as good as Slytherins, and pure-bloods.”

“The Weasleys are blood-traitors, the lot of them,” Blaise insisted.

Pansy speared a piece of pancake and shot Blaise a murderous look. “Leave it.”

Surprisingly Blaise did as he was told. Harry was spared any further musing on the matter when Professor Snape appeared suddenly at the head of the Slytherin table, a sheaf of parchments in his arm. He strode down the length, robes billowing behind him, barely stopping as he dropped a parchment in front of each student. For one long moment Harry felt Snapes focus on him and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wondering if the frightening professor was going to call him out on speaking to the Weasley twins.

Although he didn’t quite understand it all, Harry was beginning to get the picture. Slytherin and Gryffindor sounded like mortal enemies. He could imagine, the red and gold lion not being overly comfortable around the snake, and vice versa he mused. Whatever that stuff was about pure-bloods and blood-traitors he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. Would Snape reprimand him in front of the whole school?

He shrank down in his seat, eyes glued on his plate. It seemed, however, the professor was not going to say anything. Breathing a little easier he piled a few waffles on his plate and munched on a piece of bacon as he picked up the parchment.

His class schedule! Bacon forgotten he grinned, he was going to learn how to do magic! Then his eyes landed on his first class - Double Potions, with Professor Snape. Harry paled. 

“What’s wrong Harry?” Draco looked concerned. “I thought you were looking forward to Potions.”

The boys had talked on the train which classes they were most interested in. Both Harry and Draco were eager to being learning Potions. That was before Harry knew who the teacher was. He looked up at the head table to see those black, intelligent eyes once against gazing his direction with a strange look on Snape’s pale features.

“Not here,” he hissed. And stood up, barely remembering to grab his book bag before he headed out of the hall. 

Draco looked at Blaise and Pansy. The three shared equally confused looks before, as a group, they shrugged and followed Harry out of the hall. Safely away from prying eyes, tucked in an alcove, Harry found himself struggling to put his feelings into words.

“Pretty sure Professor Snape doesn’t like me,” he explained lamely after a long moment of uncomfortable silence.

Pansy seemed to be urging Draco to speak up. Finally, the blond boy spoke. “He probably didn’t expect you to be in Slytherin.” At Harry’s confused look he continued. “I don’t know a lot about it. Mother and Father really won’t talk about their school days or,” he lowered his voice, “the war. But I know that both of your parents were in Gryffindor. Stuff usually goes in families.”

“But, why would he care about Slytherin?”

“He’s our Head of House mate,” Blaise informed him.

Draco laughed at Harry’s horrified expression. “It’s not that bad Harry. Uncle Sev is strict, but everyone knows he favors Slytherin. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.” Draco’s tone left no room for Harry to argue, and so… fearing the worst, he followed his friends down to the dungeons where the Potions classroom was located.

As they were early, Draco insisted they chose seats that were right at the front of the classroom. Harry and Draco in the first desk, much to Harry’s horror, with Pansy and Blaise behind them. The rest of the class filed in and Harry realized they would be taking this class with the Gryffindors. Apparently, the four of them had determined the ‘sides’ of the classroom. He noticed the bushy haired girl, who he seemed to remember was called Hermione arguing with the Weasly boy. After a brief but heated discussion, the pair took a table at the back. Harry thought he heard something about “that Malfoy prat” but before either he or Draco could react, a side door blew open and Snape strode into the room, his black robes billowing behind him.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper.

Harry immediately forgot everything else. Snape’s voice was mesmerizing as he spoke.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses....”

Grateful that he had already pulled out a parchment and quill Harry hurriedly scratched down Snape’s words, utterly transfixed both by the content, and the melodic way in which the dark man spoke.

“I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death --if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

The class laughed nervously as Snape finished and appeared before Harry and Draco’s desk. His dark eyes looked down at Harry’s transcription of his speech and he paused.

“Tell me, Mr Potter,” his silky voice seemed to hitch on Harry’s last name, “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry racked his brain. Out of all his textbooks he’d spent the most time pouring over his Potions one. “I ummm…”

Was he imagining the look of disappointment on Snape’s face? He gulped.

“A sleeping potion! Draught of the… Endless Sleep?”

Snape’s eyebrow arched and his long arms folded in front of him. “Not. Quite. Draught of the Living Death,” he corrected.

“And, where, Mr Potter,” again his voice hitched at the name, “Would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?” 

This one he knew he remembered. How could he not, the location was so… weird. “The stomach of a goat, sir.”

“That is correct.” Snape’s lips curled up in what Harry imagined was a smile.

“What is the difference, between monkshood and wolfbane?”

Harry froze. As he desperately tried to come up with the answer his gaze traveled up from Snape’s long slender fingers, now tapping in impatience against his arm, to Snape’s face. The Potion Master’s thin lips still held the traces of a smile although it was slipping rapidly.

“They’re the same thing! Sir,” he added hastily.

Snape did not respond. Instead his black eyes once again gazed on Harry as if he were a puzzle he couldn’t quite work out. After a moment he nodded.

“They are also known as aconite. Ten points to Slytherin, the rest of you, write that down.”

He whirled and strode up to the chalkboard, tapping his wand against it a recipe for a potion that would cure boils appeared. “You have one hour.”

Harry and Draco immediately set to work dividing up the disgusting ingredients and taking turns stirring their cauldron. The two worked together well. And before long their potion was exactly as described. He looked over and tried to suppress giggles, rather unsuccessfully. 

Pansy had her wand out and was pointing it menacingly at Blaise. The smoke from their potion was black and smelled like burnt tires. He nudged Draco and the two of them stood in a silent giggle fit until an explosion from the back of the room got everyone’s attention.

Without wasting any time, the entire class stood on their stools. Apparently Weasley had managed to melt the bottom of his cauldron. Harry caught a glimpse of him, covered in angry red boils, before Hermione ushered him out of the classroom presumably towards the hospital wing.

Snape cleared the mess with a wave of his wand. “That,” he intoned, his silky voice barely disguising his outrage, “Is what happens when you add the porcupine quills to the cauldron before removing it from the fire. Fifteen points from Gryffindor.” He completely ignored the outraged murmurs coming from the red and gold side of the classroom.

“Class dismissed. Oh, Mr Potter, please remain behind for a moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love your comments, questions and whatnots!


	4. The One Where Harry Doesn’t Get It And Pansy Explains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one, but considering it's the third chapter I wrote today... I'm ok with that!
> 
> DON'T expect the updates to keep coming this fast, although they will come as fast as I can dream them up.

Harry shot Draco a panicked look, but the blond boy simply shrugged and began packing up his equipment. Uncertain of what to do, Harry remained seated as his desk while the rest of the class filed out. He tried desperately to ignore the looks and whispers from both sides of the classroom, while simultaneously keeping his eyes off the Potions Master.

Far sooner than he liked, they were the only two left in the classroom.

“Come here, Mr Potter,” Harry made his way up to the work table at the front where Snape stood, his gaze focused on his trainers.

“It is considered polite,” Snape’s voice was cold as ice, “To look at someone when they are speaking to you.” Reluctantly he tore his focus off his feet and met the Potion Master’s gaze. Snape’s black eyes held a strange glimmer as he pursed his lips, as if carefully considering his next words.

“Your position as a celebrity does not impress me, Mr Potter.”

“A celebrity?” Harry couldn’t help himself. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. He froze, eyes wide and face pale as he remembered the Dursley’s various punishments for interrupting them before he learned that unless it was to chime, “Yes sir” or “Yes ma’am” they preferred he did not speak. Taking a step back Harry readied himself for the blow. 

Snape’s eyes widened for a moment. He rapidly recalculated his approach, ignoring the painful reminder of the years that had prepared him to assess and react to information instantly. Carefully he maintained his posture and his tone, not reacting either way to the boy’s fear.

“Yes, celebrity. The Boy-Who-Lived as come to Hogwarts. However it is a pleasant surprise that you seem not to have let it get to your head.”

Harry, seeing he would not be punished for his question relaxed ever so slightly as Snape continued.

“You are to be commended for your preparation for this class. I am aware that you have been raised by your Aunt and Uncle, muggles.” Snape struggled to speak the word. “As such you may find that you are at a disadvantage to your classmates. I expect nothing less than the best from my House. Slytherin has a reputation for greatness.”

At this Snape paused. He considered his words one final time, for despite all indications of his past to the contrary… his word meant a great deal to him. 

“If you are agreeable, I shall make myself available to you for extra lessons to ensure that your previous lack of exposure to our world does not besmirch that reputation. Sundays, after breakfast.”

Harry stood utterly still for a moment before remembering that Snape was likely awaiting his response. “T-thank you,sir,” his voice was barely a whisper.

Black eyes met green for a moment, and Snape turned away quickly. Eyes so much like Hers. “That will be all, Mr Potter.” Again his voiced hitched on that word. He handed Harry a slip of parchment explaining his tardiness to his next professor without looking at the boy.

Gathering up his books Harry rushed out of the classroom and straight into Hermione and Weasley.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, teacher’s pet.” Weasley, now free of boils, shoved Harry off him and into the wall.

Harry said nothing, he righted himself and tried to move down the hallway. Ron called after him, “Traitor!”

Fuming, and somewhat confused, Harry kept walking until he was sure he was well away from the Gryffindors. He stopped and unclenched his fists before pulling out his class schedule from his bag. 

Draco had saved him a seat and Harry slipped into it without a word after handing Quirrell his note. Ignoring the blond’s attempts to pass notes and ask what Snape had wanted, Harry pretended to listen intently and take notes. 

As Quirrell droned on, the scar on Harry’s head began to ache. First a dull throb that grew until it was a sharp stabbing pain that made his eyes water. The moment class was over, Harry grabbed his things and practically bowled Blaise over as he made a beeline for the door. Dimly he heard Draco calling after him but all he could think about was lying down somewhere quiet and dark.

Had had such quiet and darkness for a grand total of one minute, before Draco yanked open the curtains around his bed.

“Harry, are you ok?”

Surprisingly, Harry was feeling better, although the pain behind his scar had not faded completely, it was back to a dull sort of ache.

“Headache,” he groaned.

Draco nodded sympathetically and Harry could see the internal struggle as the older boy desperately wanted to know why Professor Snape had held Harry back after class.

“I’m alright.” Harry began to feel quite foolish for his reaction. The pain was nearly gone, leaving behind a rumbling feeling in his stomach. “C’mon, let’s go to lunch.” He pushed himself up out of bed.

“What did Uncle Sev want?” he asked cautiously after a long silence.

Harry shook his head dismissively as they approached the Great Hall. “Said he didn’t want me mucking up Slytherin’s reputation. So I gotta go to extra lessons on Sundays after breakfast.”

“That’s not so bad. He’s a brilliant Potions Master, you could learn a lot.” Draco paused, “That doesn’t seem like something to get so angry over.”

“Huh? Oh, no.” Harry stopped for a moment in the doorway. He could hear Professor Snape’s voice in his ear, like ice, Your position as a celebrity. For the first time he properly noticed the looks people were giving him. The Gryffindors especially regarded him with a strange sadness and disappointment that he could not for the life of him understand.

“Draco,” Harry whispered as they sat down at the Slytherin table, “Why are they all looking at me like that? And why would Weasley call me a traitor?”

“Because they think we’re corrupting their precious Harry Potter,” Blaise grinned wickedly, as if the idea appealed to him.

“Rude as it is to interrupt a conversation that does concern you,” Draco glared at Blaise, “He’s right though.” Blaise pretended to faint at Draco’s words, Draco rolled his silver-grey eyes at the dramatics and continued. “You’re the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Harry frowned, choosing to follow Draco’s example and ignore Blaise, “Snape called me that too. I don’t understand.”

Pansy, who had done an admirable job up til now of pretending she either couldn’t hear the conversation or simply didn’t care to listen let out a sigh. She turned and smiled gently at Harry. “You’re a big deal Harry. No one survives, -that-, and you did. And despite everyone’s best attempt, they can’t even guess at why. Whatever happened, he went away… after -you-. You’re the big hero. And everyone expects their heroes to come from Gryffindor, and their villains... to come from Slytherin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions... you know the drill. I love getting them... they make my day!


	5. The One Where Weasley is a Prat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filch calling Mrs Norris Poopsie-kins and Dumplin-Wumpkin is taken shamelessly from an amazing Drarry fic called Checkmate by Naadi which everyone should go read!
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/908503/chapters/1759258

The rest of the week passed in a blur, Harry was forever grateful for Pansy, and sometimes Draco, for explaining terms and theories that the professors just seemed to assume everyone knew. He tried to ignore the way people reacted to him; although when the tiny Charms professor, Flitwick, toppled off the stack of books he was standing on as he read Harry’s name off the roll call it was decidedly more difficult.

Harry discovered Potions was, for the most part, as enjoyable as he’d hoped. He still could not entirely determine what Snape was about. At times he was convinced the Potions Master hated him for some strange reason, at others he favored Harry… awarding points for simple answers and adequate work. Weasley seemed, for some reason, to take this as a personal affront to his House, for reasons only he could fathom. 

Transfiguration however, was entirely beyond his understanding. In part because the professor, McGonagall, would watch Harry ever so strangely with a melancholy expression. She seemed almost hesitant to approach his desk and comment on his progress.

Saturday evening found the Slytherins tucked away in a corner of the library, finishing up the last of their homework so that they could enjoy at least one school-free day of the weekend. Harry frowned on the match lying on the desk in front of him.

“Are you sure it’s not even a little pointy?” He turned to Pansy, his expression pathetic.

“Sorry Harry dear, try it like this.” Once again she patiently demonstrated the wand movement.

After another failed attempt Harry shoved his wand and the match into his school bag. “I give up,” he huffed. “I’m going to bed.”

“At least we’re taking tomorrow off?”

“Maybe you are,” he grumbled. “I’ve got extra Potions with Professor Snape after breakfast.” Harry was not sure what he was feeling about it. The more he thought about spending time one on one with Snape the more nervous he got. But the pull to learn more about potions, from the Master himself was strong.

Unfortunately for Harry, Weasley chose that moment to round the corner flanked by several Gryffindor first years.

“Extra potions with Snape?” his voice dripped with contempt. “Making sure they completely corrupt you then, eh Potter?”

Harry stood, his wand back in his hand. He felt Draco, Blaise and Pansy move in behind him and out of the corner of his eye he could see they were also holding their wands, ready.

“What is your problem Weasley?” Harry pressed.

“You’re my problem, Potter. You’re everyone’s problem. See… now that we’ve seen what a snake you are. We’re starting to rethink what happened. Not such a hero… more like the next You-Know-Who.”

The other Gryffindors nodding in agreement, egged on by their approval Weasley kept going.

“Maybe, maybe it wasn’t even Him that night. Maybe it was just Potter.”

Harry dropped his wand and lunged at Weasley. He barely managed to stop himself as he saw Madame Pince round the corner. Clenching his fists together he pressed them to his legs as Weasley laughed.

“You want to fight Potter? You and me, tonight. Midnight. In the Astronomy Tower - Wizard’s duel.” he hissed. “Who’s your second.?”

“Me,” Blaise, Pansy and Draco all spoke at the same time. Harry looked at his friends who were now having a furious whispered conversation. Finally Pansy emerged with a sneer on her face. “Me,” she repeated. Draco and Blaise looked murderous but said nothing. “Who’s yours?” Her dark blue eyes cut through the line of Gryffindors.

Weasley paused for a moment and then caught the eye of a tall heavyset boy. “Dean,” he turned to leave, “See you at midnight, Potter.”

Harry waited until they were all the way back in the Common Room before whirling on the other three. “What did I just agree to, and why do I need a second?”

“A wizard’s duel, obviously. And you need a second to send Weasley into oblivion in case you die. Obviously,” Draco sneered, seemingly still annoyed that Pansy was Harry’s second.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Oh shut up Draco. I mean, he’s right, but it’s not going to happen. That Weasel can’t possibly know any spells or curses.” She folded her arms, “I bet a galleon all he does is shoot red sparks out the end of his wand.”

At the mention of a bet several of the other Slytherins came over. The room erupted into chaos as Blaise position himself as a sort of bookie, taking money and recording bets. Some of the older students shoved the chairs out of the middle of the room and took turns showing Harry the proper etiquette.

“But, what do I do if he manages to cast a real spell at me?” Harry finally managed to squeak out after mastering the wand salute and bow.

“Best dodge it mate. If all else fails, throw you wand away and punch him really hard in the face,” Draco drawled from his spot by the fire where he’d been watching the goings on with an amused expression.

Not once, all evening, did any of the Slytherins even hint that wizard duels were not allowed at Hogwarts, to say nothing of being out of the dormitory after curfew. They congratulated him on his victory which they were certain would be the end result, or clapped him on the back, offering tidbits of advice. Finally, at half-past eleven a final round of bets was placed as Harry, Draco, Blaise and Pansy slipped quietly out of the Common Room.

It was more eerie than Harry had imagined, being out in the halls at night. Several of the portraits grumbled at them about their wand light, irritated it would seem at being woken up. They crept along silently until they reached the Tower. Draco cast a Tempus charm, it was five-to.

“Where are they?” Pansy whispered after they’d been waiting fifteen minutes. “The Gryffindor tower isn’t that far from here.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, when he heard a voice from the corridor. “Sniff them out my Poopsie-Kins, they’re here somewhere.”

He realized, with horror, that it was Filch, and his hateful cat Mrs. Norris. He waved at the others to follow him through the door at the far side of the room.

“Maybe in a corner. We will find them Dumplin-Wumpkin,” he crooned.

“Split up,” Draco hissed. They scattered. As soon as Harry thought they were out of immediate earshot he began to run. The faster he could reach the Common Room the faster he could process the idea of Filch calling Mrs Norris… Poopsie-Kins?

He rounded a corner, nearly at the dungeons, when he ran straight into a warm, hard wall. Looking up he saw Professor Snape’s dark eyes, nearly hidden by long black hair. Strong, slender fingers closed around each shoulder as Snape’s thin lips hardened into an almost invisible line.

“Twenty points from Slytherin, Mr. Potter,” Snape’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. But Harry trembled at the barely contained anger that he felt coming off the Professor in waves.

Moving in behind Harry, Snape marched the boy down the halls to the Slytherin dormitory. Snape stood in the middle of the common room, the green light highlighting his pale skin. Harry prayed desperately that Pansy, Draco and Blaise were not about to burst in.

“Bed, Mr Potter,” Snape spoke after several long minutes. 

Harry nodded and scrambled down the stairs to his room. To his relief - Draco, Blaise, and Pansy were sitting on his bed waiting for him. He did a double-take as he registered that the dark-haired girl was not supposed to be in his room. Keeping his voice down, in case Snape was listening he caught them up on what had happened.

Draco and Blaise were outraged that Snape had taken points from his own house until Pansy pointed out that if Harry had been in any other house, the loss would have been at least two or three times greater. The conversation quickly turned to Filch and how he and Mrs Norris just happened to be there.

“You mean, Poopsie-kins?” The four burst into silent hysterics before Draco sobered up.

“The Weasel ratted us out.”

“It makes sense,” Harry agreed glumly.

They fell asleep in a pile on Harry’s bed, discussing the various methods in which they would extract revenge on Weasley.

The next morning Pansy ignored the boys’ strategies to get her out of the dorms and into the Common Room without being spotted. After listening to them argue for several minutes she rolled her eyes, smoothed her robes, and with a flick of her hair walked out and up the stairs. The boys shrugged at each other and then followed her cautiously.

When they reached the Common Room it appeared news of the points loss had already filtered back, overshadowing Pansy’s appearance out of the boys’ dorms. Moving quickly they slunk out of the dungeons to the Great Hall. 

Harry caught sight of Weasley holding court with a smug expression on his face and fumed as he sat down. Apparently they were just in time for mail call as the owls began to drop letters and packages. Paying them no mind, he poured himself a bowl of Count Chocula and jumped as a letter splashed chocolate milk everywhere. Fishing it out curiously he pried it open.

He’s terrified of spiders.  
Have fun.

It was signed FG with a pair of W’s emblazoned in the corner. With an evil grin he nudged Draco and handed him the note. Risking a glance up he spotted Fred and George leaving the Gryffindor table and he raised his goblet of pumpkin juice to him. 

“Pansy was right,” Draco mused, “They are as good as Slytherins.”

Pansy beamed smugly while Blaise muttered something inappropriate into his glass.

Blaise and Harry were all for using the information right away, although they couldn’t agree on exactly how to do it.

“Idiots, the both of you. Are you Slytherins or not?” Pansy finally interrupted. “We wait, until the little Weasel thinks he’s pulled one over on us. And then…”

“We show him what being a Slytherin is all about.” Draco finished with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably just this chapter today, family stuffs tonight plus I really need to try and get to bed at a somewhat decent hour! But hopefully there will be lots more updates over the weekend! Until then, comment, question, all that good stuff that makes me smile <3


	6. The One Where Harry Likes Flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the "delay" in getting a chapter up. Busy end of the week was busy. But it's here and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Your kudos, comments, and whatnots make my day! Thank you <3

After breakfast Harry bid goodbye to his friends and made his way down to the Potions classroom. He wasn’t entirely sure Snape’s offer was still valid, after the previous evening. Snape had not been at the head table when Harry and his friends came down for breakfast. But between showing up or missing it he had decided the former had the least chance of angering his Head of House.

He stood outside of the door, recalling the reasons he'd determined that willingly presenting himself to a likely still angry Snape was the best course of action. With a deep breath he raised his arm and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” the voice beckoned him in.

Harry pushed open the door and walked into the room. The desks and stools had vanished, with the exception of one, up at the front near Snape’s work table. Snape stood beside it, armed folded and dark eyes narrowed.

“You would do well not to follow in your father’s footsteps, Mr Potter.”

Harry froze. Hidden under the long sleeves of his robe, he clenched his fists. “Beg your pardon?” he managed to ask.

“Your father was arrogant and reckless. He had casual disregard for the rules that was positively alarming. All traits that do not belong in my House. Do you understand?”

For a wild moment, Harry was tempted to point out to Snape that most members of Slytherin played fast and loose with the Hogwarts rules. One look at the expression on Snape’s pale, angular face and he swallowed them back, nodding instead.

Snape seemed to accept this, as he directed Harry to the workbench and began to explain the reasoning behind the order of ingredients. Harry only managed to half listen. Internally his mind was reeling. Snape had known his parents, or… his father at least. And it would appear they did not get along. Thanks to his years of ‘training’ with the Dursley’s he managed to keep his thoughts to himself and go through the motions.

It was this attitude that kept Harry moving through the next several weeks. If his friends noticed a difference, they did not comment on it. He took notes in class, finished his homework best as he was able, and dealt with the strange headaches that seemed to plague him after Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

All the first years had settled into a rhythm of classes and homework, until a notice appeared on the board in the Common Room. Flying lessons were to begin that Wednesday, after lunch. The reactions ranged from exuberant to terrified. Harry overheard Weasley bragging to anyone who would listen of how he’d nearly hit a hang-glider on his brother Charlie’s broom over the summer. Although he was excited for his first time on a broomstick, Weasley’s comment reminded him painfully of his Muggle upbringing.

Draco, Blaise and Pansy listened sympathetically as Harry finally admitted his fear. Pansy and Draco glanced at each other, and entire conversation passing between them in a single look.

“We’ll teach you,” they stated simultaneously with near identical grins.

“Teach me? How?”

Pansy leaned forward and whispered the plan to Harry.

That was how Harry found himself standing outside the broomshed next to the Quidditch pitch that evening during dinner, instead of inside with everyone else. Draco unlocked the door with a simple, “Alohamora”.

The pitch was almost entirely bathed in shadow as Harry stepped out, holding the broomstick in his hand. He could feel the magic running through it, eager to be off. Following Draco’s example he climbed onto the broomstick and kicked off. It responded slowly at first, but as Harry settled down and began to enjoy the ride it listened more attentively to him.

After a few laps around the Quidditch pitch he felt as though he had been on a broom his entire life.

“This is brilliant!” he called. Draco, Blaise and Pansy flew over to him with an excited look on each of their faces. He circled back around and caught glimpse of something moving near the Forbidden Forest out of the corner of his eye. He squinted against the darkness and with a jolt, recognized a familiar turban before it disappeared into the trees. “Did you guys see that?”

At the confused looks on their faces he quickly explained, “Quirrell, going into the Forbidden Forest!”

“Fancy a little spying?” Pansy looked at the three boys wickedly. Without waiting for an answer she took off in the direction Harry had pointed. They wasted no time in following her, splitting up as the reached the treeline to search the ground below.

If flying around the pitch was fun, this was positively exhilarating. Harry darted and weaved through the trees, ignoring the branches that tried to knock him off his broom. When he reached a clearing he stopped and looked around. The others pulled out of the treeline a few moments later landing beside him lightly, all looking more than a little worse for wear.

“How on earth did you manage not even a scratch?” Pansy looked him over, eyes wide.

“I , ummm, I flew around them?”

“And you beat us,” Draco sounded almost offended.

Blaise looked suspicious, “Are you sure this your first time on a broom, Harry?”

“Did it occur to you that maybe he’s just good?” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Harry, catch,” Draco grabbed a rock and chucked it towards the center of the clearing. Without thinking, Harry jumped on his broom and flew after it. His hand smarted as he snatched it out of its arm, Draco had quite the arm on him.

“Again!” Draco yelled, throwing another rock. Harry dropped the one he was holding and chased the other down. No sooner had he caught it, than Pansy picked up a pinecone and tossed it the other direction.

The three kept picking up random objects from the ground, and Harry kept catching them. He was flat against his broom, arm stretched as far as it would go, when the rock he was after suddenly changed direction. He cursed, and turned to follow it.

What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. Snape reached out and caught the stone, he stared at it thoughtfully, turning it over in his hands. Harry dismounted and stood over with Draco, Pansy and Blaise who all looked a mix between baffled, and guilty.

He turned, still clutching the stone, “Are you aware, that the Forbidden Forest is so named because it is off-limits to students such as yourselves? As if skipping supper and stealing brooms out of the school’s shed was not enough?” His voice carried clearly although it was low and soft. “With me.”

Snape strode through a path they had not seen from their brooms, they followed along without a word until they reached the doors of the Great Hall. With each step a picture of himself returning home, expelled, to the Dursleys grew clearer in his mind. He caught sight of Hagrid’s hut, twinkling in the distance, perhaps Dumbledore would allow him to remain behind as a sort of assistant to the Groundskeeper? Surely, surely they wouldn’t send him back to -that.

“Wait here Potter.” Draco, Blaise and Pansy exchanged equally baffled looks and stood a step behind Harry, uncertain what their Head of House expected of them. Before long, Snape returned with a large sixth year Harry had never met. For one wild moment, Harry wondered if the older boy was part troll.

“Flint, meet your new Seeker, Harry Potter.”

Behind him, Harry heard three simultaneous gasps that he ignored in favor of warily watching the cross expression on Flint’s face.

“We don’t need no little firsties on our team,” Flint cross his arms and stared down, unimpressed, at Harry.

“It was not a request, Flint,” Snape held out his hand, the rock dark against his pale skin. “Which one of your players could have caught this, in the dark, their first time on a broom?”

At Snape’s words, Flint looked back at Harry appraisingly. He grunted something that must have been an agreement because Snape looked satisfied. Closing his slender fingers around the rock Snape dismissed Flint before turning his attention back to Harry and his friends. His thin lips twisted and his face appeared conflicted. “Detention,” he snapped. “After class tomorrow, in my classroom.” His robes billowing behind him as he strode past them, down to the dungeons.

“Merlin! Didn’t see that coming! Thought he was going to expel us all. Instead he goes and makes Harry here Seeker.” Blaise clapped Harry on the back.

Harry opened his mouth to answer when he was cut off.

“First years aren’t allowed on Quidditch teams.” Ron Weasley stood in the doors to the Great Hall, a sneer on his freckled face.

“Unless they’re brilliant,” Pansy quipped.

“It’s not allowed.” Weasley insisted. He moved to pull out his wand when he realized that they were still in tight of the teachers. “Famous Harry Potter… I guess the rules don’t apply to you. Must be nice, being so, special.” He spit out the last word and pushed past them down the hall.

“That’s going to be trouble,” Draco sighed, Harry was forced to agree. His appetite gone, he made his excuses and headed to bed.


	7. The One Where Harry And Draco Have Dinner With Gryffindors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my GOSH you guys! The love for this story blows me away. Thank you all so much <3
> 
> So, apparently weekends won't be good writing times for me. Too much going on at the house to sit and properly focus. Now that the week's begun hopefully we'll get back to more rapid updates. I'm still having so much fun with it, especially after this one. Don't want to spoil so just... go enjoy!

For the first time since he had come to Hogwarts, Harry woke up screaming. When he was younger, a strange nightmare often plagued him with screams and flashes of green light. However in the time he had been at Hogwarts his sleep had been, with the exception of Blaise’s habit of talking in his sleep, wonderfully peaceful. He woke, not from the dream - in which long strips of fabric were weaving through the trees trying to strangle him while Snape watched - but from falling off of his bed. Still caught in the panic of the dream he struggled out of his blankets and curtains, and stood in the middle of the room, panting.

Draco, Blaise, and Nott had apparently not come up to bed yet, a fact which Harry was unbelievably grateful for. Taking another deep, shuddering breath, he lowered himself onto his bed and reached for his glasses. Although the room was dark, it was far more unsettling when everything was a series of shadowy blurs.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Draco burst into the room with all of his usual subtlety, pulling up short when he saw Harry’s pale face. “You alright, Harry?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m alright,” he put on what he hoped was a convincing smile, “What’s up?”

Draco eyed him suspiciously for a moment, “We never found out what Quirrell was up to, going into the Forbidden Forest and all.”

“What’s so bad about the Forbidden Forest anyway? I mean, it seemed alright.”

“There’s all sorts of things in there… werewolves, centaurs, giant spiders. They say, “Draco lowered his voice, “The last students who went into the Dark Forest, were never heard from again.”

Harry felt a shiver go up through his spine. He doubted that any student to venture into the forest died, they made it out largely alright after all, but something about the place unsettled Harry the more he thought of it.

“Wait, what about Snape, what was he doing in the Dark Forest. He couldn’t have just followed us, you don’t think?”

Draco looked thoughtful, “He might have, or maybe he was with Quirrell?”

“Or following him,” Harry suggested, “I’ve seen the way Snape looks at Quirrell, and Quirrell seems almost scared of him.”

“What on earth are you going on about? First off, Quirrell seems scared of practically everything. I heard one of the seventh years saying he had a run in with a werewolf and hasn’t been the same since. And Snape... Snape’s the Head of our House!” Draco’s face was positively scandalized at the idea that Harry was implicating Snape in anything.

Harry’s thoughts flashed back to Draco referring to Snape as ‘Uncle Sev’ and knew he had to tread carefully. “Just, something doesn’t seem right. Half the time he seems not to mind me, and half the time I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s our Head of House, he’s giving you extra tutoring!”

“Sometimes I get the feeling he only gives me that to keep an eye on me.”

“Harry, has anyone ever told you that you talk crazy when you miss supper?”

He opened his mouth to argue but instead his stomach, hearing mention of supper, decided to rumble loudly. He sighed.

“Look, it’s weird that they were both out there, instead of in the Great Hall with everyone else. Can we at least agree on that?”

After Draco grudgingly agreed that it was strange he managed to convince Harry to sneak out of the dorms and down to the kitchens. After all, how hard could they be to find?

As it turns out, extremely. Ignoring the fact that they had to walk carefully, never raising their voices above a whisper, constantly on the lookout for Mr Filch, Mrs Norris, or one of the prefects or Professors, the halls at Hogwarts seemed deliberately designed to confuse. To say nothing of the staircases that liked to move and reconfigure themselves at will. After more dead ends than either of them could count, they were forced to admit that not only did they not know where the kitchens were, their exact location was a bit of a mystery as well.

“Stop, just stop. We’re lost Draco.” Harry stopped in front of a particularly large tapestry at the end of yet another hallway that went nowhere.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” a duo of voices called out from behind the tapestry. He pushed off the wall in surprise as Fred and George Weasley slipped out from behind the fabric with matching disappointed expressions.

“And what’s this Fred?”

“Well, I do believe it’s Draco Malfoy, George.”

“Out wandering the halls after curfew without any sort of plan.”

“And we thought you two were Slytherin.”

Draco looked wary but Harry grinned, something told him these two were kindred spirits and could be trusted.

“Don’t want to get caught and thrown off the Quidditch team before you’ve even had a chance to play!”

“Ron told us,” Fred, or was it George, answered in response to Harry’s puzzled look. His tone left no doubt at the manner in which the younger Weasley had related the news.

“So, youngest Seeker in a century. Well done.”

“Should warn you though,” Fred smirked, “We’re Beaters for Gryffindor. Can’t be going easy on you.”

“Don’t worry though, no one’s died in years. Can’t promise you won’t get bloody though.”

Harry looked panicked.

“It’s not that bad Harry, trust me… eat something and it won’t sound so scary after all. Besides you’re brilliant, they’re just trying to frighten you off so Gryffindor has a chance to win the Cup.” Draco glared at the twins.

“Tut, tut, tut, can’t have you wasting away on us now then can we? Need to have a fair fight after all.” They moved in unison back behind the tapestry. When Harry and Draco followed they found themselves standing in a dark stairwell.

“Lumos,” George’s face looked positively mischievous in the wandlight as he led them down the stairs.

“The school’s full of passages like these. Reckon Fred and I here know every one. Although Filch is pretty up on them too, so don’t just go running through all willy nilly.”

“Maybe,” Fred winked at Draco, “If you’re lucky… we’ll teach you two what we know. Now, shhh.”

They had reached the bottom of the staircase, George tapped his wand against a brick in the top left corner and a door swung open softly. He peaked out and then motioned the others to follow. The walked quietly until they reached a painting of a bowl of fruit.

Fred grinned and then reached up to tickle the pear. Harry and Draco watched, stunned, as it giggled and twitched, until transforming into a green doorknob. He pushed the door open and then bowed with a flourish, “After you!”

The kitchen was enormous. Laid out in the center were tables, set up exactly as they were in the Great Hall. Harry realized that they must be directly under them, and enchanted to bring food up at Dumbledore’s signal. All around the outside were mounds of copper pots and pans, and at the far end, a giant brick fireplace. Darting between counters and tables and the hearth, dozens of strange small creatures were hard at work.

“What are those?” Harry whispered. 

“House-elves, they’re like servants. We have a few at the Manor.” Draco’s response was not as quiet as Harry’s question and drew the attention of a small group of House-Elves. They scurried over, Harry blinked as he realized that instead of clothes, each elf wore a clean tea towel with the Hogwarts emblem sitched on the front.

The tallest, which wasn’t saying much as he barely came up to Draco’s waist, bowed before the boys. “What is sirs wanting in the kitchens at this hour?” It squeaked.

“Harry and Draco missed dinner, we wondered if you might fix us up?” Fred’s tone was respectful and kind as he smiled at the elf.

“Of course! We be feeding you with pleasure. If sirs will follow me?” He led the boys just off to the side of the fire and with a snap of his fingers, he conjured a table and four comfy-looking chairs. “Sirs will be sitting? Food will come!”

They took a seat, Harry looking this way and that as the elves hurried about their business. His hunger completely forgotten about until several of the elves returned bearing large trays of sandwiches, pastries, and a cauldron of soup.

One walked up next to Fred, its ears twitching with excitement. “Pearlie be remembering Mr Weasleys and their favorites. Pearlie has a cupboard.” She produced four tankards, each filled with a foamy liquid, giving off a small bit of steam.

“Butterbeer! Pearlie, you are a treat!” Fred beamed at the house-elf who, delivery successful, appeared to blush and scurried away. “We told them once, last year, that it was our favorite. This is brilliant, you’re going to love it.” He pushed two mugs towards Harry and Draco and then raised his with a grin. “I solemnly swear, I am up to no good.”

George lifted his as well, and after a second Harry and Draco joined them. 

Cautiously, Harry took his first sip. The smooth taste of butterscotch, although slightly less sickly-tasting, warmed him all the way through. It was no mystery to him why Fred and George liked the drink so much, he could easy find himself getting used to it. He piled his plate full of food and set to easing his complaining stomach.

A little while later the four of them sat, reclining in the chairs, the table had been Banished and they sipped happily on the last dregs of their Butterbeer.

“Alright,” Draco broke the silence, “It has to be said. How in Merlin’s name are you two not Slytherins.”

Fred and George pretended to gasp, horrified. “Slytherins! You do defile us mighty Gryffindors with your… Alright, alright easy there Malfoy. We were just joking.” Draco looked ready to shove them both in the fireplace and dance on the ashes.

“Truth is, the Sorting Hat wanted to. Said we’d have a lot of fun, and could do great things. But…”

“Mum would have killed us, brought us back, and then killed us again for the shame of it.” Fred frowned. “They’ve got a thing, cuz… well you know.”

Draco nodded, but Harry looked puzzled.

“I don’t know. Everyone always talks about how being in Slytherin is some big disgrace. And acts like me being in Slytherin is the worst thing that could have ever happened, and I don’t get it.”

Draco pursed his lips and George looked pained so Fred took the last swig of his Butterbeer, his face grim.

“Thing is Harry, there’s lots of people who go round saying that every dark wizard or witch comes from Slytherin. Now, Slytherin’s had its share, don’t look at me like that Malfoy it’s true. Especially because You-Know-Who was from there. And lots of Slytherins talk about being pure-blood as if it made them better than everyone else. Lots of His followers were from there too, Death Eaters they called themselves. They did a lot of evil, and there are lots that’s just can’t forgive them. They don’t think any should have been allowed to renounce him and should be rotting in Azkaban, the wizard prison.”

Harry struggled to take it all in and glanced over at Draco, the blonde boy was more pale than usual; his hands gripping the armrests of his chair until his knuckles were white. “Draco?” he whispered.

After a long pause Draco spoke, “My parents… they were. Those.” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word. His voice heavy with shame.

Fred reached over and put a hand on the younger boy’s arm. Draco started, but Fred held firm, “Listen here Draco.” He used the boy’s proper name for the first time. “They defected, that means they realized they were wrong… or they’d be locked away right now. And even if they hadn’t… You’re not your parents, so their choices aren’t yours, alright?”

Fred’s words rang in Harry’s ears long after the twins had seen them to the Slytherin dungeon and bid them goodnight. Draco had seemed cheered, and Harry was glad, but he couldn’t help think back to Snape’s comments about following in his father’s footsteps. He had long since resigned himself to the idea that he would not remember either of his parents, although sometimes he imagined he could just recall his mother holding him, singing softly. He’d stopped wondering what they were like, because there was no way that he could get an answer.

But now? Now he knew someone who had for sure known at least his dad. Despite what Snape had said about his father’s behavior, was it worth asking the man? Worth reaching out for some part of his parents?


	8. The One Where Dumbledore Starts to Show His True Colors

Instead of joining the rest of the class for their first flying lesson; Harry, Draco, Blaise and Pansy found themselves nervously standing outside of the Potions classroom. Harry had barely managed to keep his eyes open all day after his and Draco’s late night dinner with the Weasley twins. He could think of nothing more than finishing the detention and falling sound asleep for a week. Remembering the amount of homework he had waiting for him, he groaned and leaned into the cold stone wall. Perhaps he could just nap…

“Are we interrupting your beauty rest, Mr Potter?” Snape’s voice, cold and hard as ice, snapped Harry to attention. He fumbled over his words but Snape ignored him. With a sweep of his arm he ushered them into the classroom where they found all the cauldrons piled in the center, the desks had been pushed aside. “You will be cleaning the cauldrons today. Without magic Mr Zabini,” he stated as Blaise had hopefully reached for his wand. “This is not the time for your substandard wandwork or incantations. Each cauldron must be completely free of any contaminants. Proceed.” He stepped around the pile of cauldrons to his desk where he picked up a book and promptly ignored them. 

It went without saying that he expected silence. The four of them worked, scrubbing the pots for hours until not a trace of an ingredient, charring or anything else remained on their gleaming surfaces. Snape looked up and sniffed, “I suppose that will do.” They scurried out of his classroom and to the Great Hall, hoping they hadn’t missed dinner.

Harry yawned loudly and Pansy poked him in the back. “What’s up with you anyway? Falling asleep in class is more Blaise’s style.” She ignored the look from Blaise, and kept on Harry.

“Well, I didn’t exactly sleep last night. I was hungry, so Draco made me go find the kitchens with him, and then we got lost.”

“Merlin don’t tell me Filch found you?”

“No, Fred and George did. Took us down to the kitchens, the house elves there are really nice!”

“Harry! How could you?!”

Harry raised his arms, ready for the small raven-haired girl to start hitting him, “Hey! Weren’t you the one saying they were as good as Slytherins anyway?”

“She means we went without her,” Draco explained, carefully stepping wide of Pansy.

Pansy swung her school bag around, hitting Draco with it, punctuating her words. “Of.” thump “Course.” thump “I’m.” thump “Upset.” thump. “You two,” she swirled around to take a final swing at Harry, “Went off and had all the fun without me!”

“Oh,” Harry rubbed his arm where she had hit him and grinned as she started after Draco. He was saved the trouble of coming up with an appropriate response as they rounded the corner to the hall and saw the imposing figure of Marcus Flint waiting for them.

“Oiy, Potter. Nice of you to show up for dinner. Quidditch practice, tomorrow after class.” Filch grunted and then pushed his way past them to towards the dungeons.

Harry watched him leave with a strangled look on his face.

“What’s wrong Harry? Quidditch is great!”

“I get the feeling he doesn’t want me on his team…”

Harry’s suspicions were justified the next evening at practice. Draco, Pansy and Blaise all came along for moral support for which he was eternally grateful because it seemed as though most of Slytherin showed up to watch.

“Alright Potter,” Flint glared down at the much smaller boy. “I don’t care what Snape said. If I’m not happy, you’re not on my team. We utterly obliterated Gryffindor last year, and I intend for it to stay that way.”

For a brief moment Harry wondered if Snape was here would Flint be singing the same song, but one look at the boy as he towered over him and he swallowed any other response and nodded.

Flint started by throwing balls the size of Harry’s fist. That went well enough, until Flint called over the Beaters, a boy named Terence Higgs and Gemma Farley, the prefect. They began hitting the Bludgers in Harry’s direction, while Flint released the Snitch and timed how long it would take for Harry to catch it each time.

After several hours, Flint grudgingly agreed that Harry would not bring shame to his team and called an end to practice. Exhausted and more than a little bruised he made his way to the locker room surrounded by the rest of the Slytherins cheering and clapping him on the back.

Halloween came sooner than Harry expected and with far more pomp and fuss. He knew most Muggles made much of the holiday, although the Dursley’s had flatly refused to acknowledge it’s existence, much to the anger of Dudley who had realized it was the candy holiday of the year. He’d assumed that wizards and witches would think the holiday far too crass to participate in.

He said as much to Draco, Pansy and Blaise who looked at him completely astonished. The four had managed by some miracle to secure the large plush chairs in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room. Despite the fact that tomorrow was a school day, most of the House seemed to be staying up late, too energized by the festive atmosphere.

“But Harry, it’s our holiday!” Pansy was closest to the fire, using the light to paint intricate designs of pumpkins, cats, and ghosts on her long black fingernails.

“The Ministry keeps trying to impose restrictions about how we celebrate, but… it hasn’t worked very well.”

Pansy nodded at Draco. “It’s the one time of year when it’s very hard to enforce the statutes of secrecy. At least the Muggles don’t really seem to notice, all the costumes and fireworks and whatnot.” She stretched out her hands and smiled in appreciation. “There, perfect.” With a wicked grin she turned on the three boys, “Now, which one of you is up?”

Harry blinked, “You mean… you want to paint our nails?”

“Of course! It’s so pretty.” 

As she advanced towards them, black polish brush in her hand, the boys began to yawn loudly and raced down the stairs to their room.

Breakfast the next morning was a far more elaborate affair than normal. There was an excited buzz in the air which Harry assumed was due perhaps in part to the amount of candy that had already been consumed by most of the student body.

“Now! Don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing,” Flitwick beamed at them from the top of a stack of books on his desk. “Yes, very nice Miss Parkinson. Remember… the swish and flick! And saying the magic words properly is very important, too --never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Harry laughed and then turned his attention to the feather on his desk. Despite how easy Flitwick had made it sound, a simple swish and flick with the words, ‘wingardium leviosa’ and the feather should float up to the ceiling. 

It turned out, most of the class were struggling. Blaise, at the table next to Harry and Draco, began to poke the feather with his wand. Suddenly the feather exploded, showering Blaise and Pansy with tiny down feathers.

“Ugh, seriously Blaise?” Pansy glared and began picking the feathers out of her hair. “It’s not that hard.”

“Fine, you do it then.” Blaise crossed his arms.

Pansy rolled her eyes and pointed her wand at the feather. “Wingardium leviosa,” she incanted. The feather rose slowly off the desk.

“Oh! Well done Miss Parkinson! Ten points to Slytherin. The rest of you, keep practicing! Class dismissed!”

The feast that night was incredible. Jack O'Lanterns had replaced the candles in the Great Hall and there was every kind of candy imaginable, in addition to lamb, beef, chicken, salmon, and more sides than Harry could dream of eating.

He had just dug into his third, or was it fourth, helping when the doors flew open, revealing a panicked-looking Professor Quirrell.

“Troll!” he screamed, “In the dungeons!” He made it up to the head table where he gasped, “Thought you ought to know,” before passing out in a heap.

The students dissolved into chaos. It took Dumbledore several moments, and a few firecrackers exploding from the tip of his wand, before he had their attention.

“Prefects! Take your houses back to their dormitories, immediately. Teachers, with me.”

“Gemma,” Harry had pushed his way up through the large group of students, “Our dormitories are in the dungeons.”

She glanced up at Dumbledore as he led the teachers out and a furious look crossed her face. “I know.” With a louder voice she called to the rest of the Slytherins. “Look, we got this, alright? We’re Slytherins, yeah?” A cheer went up. She pulled her wand out of her sleeve and held it in front of her, “Wands out, eyes peeled! Let’s go!”

They made their way towards the dorms, staying together as a group. As the turned the final corner, a large hand reached out and wrapped around Draco’s waist. His other hand clutched a giant club and he swung out at the group, students dove every which way to avoid getting hit.

“Do something!” Draco screamed.

Harry scrambled to his feet, wand still clutched in his hand, his mind frantically trying to think of a spell that would help. “Wingardium leviosa!” he shouted desperately, pointing his wand at the club. To his amazement, instead of swinging at the students again, the club hung in midair, levitated by his wand. Thinking quickly he swung his wand over and clobbered the troll with its own club. It fell to the ground, releasing a very indignant Draco.

Just then, the teachers rounded the corner, led by Dumbledore and Professor Snape.

“Incarcerous!” Ropes shot from the tip of Snape’s wand and bound the troll from head to foot.

“Miss Farley, what happened here?” Dumbledore looked over his half moon glasses at Gemma who had thrown herself on top of some of the first and second years. Her curly hair practically crackled with fury as she smoothed her robes.

“The troll happened, Headmaster,” her voice dripped with disdain. “It was in the Dungeons, where our dormitory happens to be located? Thankfully, Harry here managed to knock it out with its own club.”

All the teachers eyes were on Harry now as he blushed furiously. Dumbledore looked lost for words. Harry half expected him to take points from Slytherin for Gemma’s attitude.

“Fifty points to Slytherin,” Snape stepped forward, “Impressive, Mr Potter.” He shot Dumbledore a withering glance, “Now, if the students will please follow me to the dormitories.” He turned in a whirl of black robes and strode down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed my reworked version of the feast and troll incident! It always really bothered me that Dumbledore sent the Slytherins into the dungeons when that's where the damn troll was!


	9. The One Where Hagrid Says Too Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be blown away by all the comments and love. You guys are awesome! Sorry 'bout only getting a few chapters up this week, but still working at it!

When they reached the Common Room they found the feast had been set up in the middle. Most of the students dug in eagerly, adrenaline having increased their appetite, but Harry found himself standing off to the side.

Several things about the evening did not sit well with him. Beyond the fact that a first year had to take on a fully grown mountain troll. As he sat brooding, he caught a glimpse of Snape watching him. The cool, dark eyes had a strange hint of sadness and held Harry’s gaze for a long moment.

“What’s wrong Harry?” Pansy came up beside him and put a gentle hand on his arm. He took his gaze off Snape and gave her a half smile.

“How did a troll get in?” Harry’s mind had a storm of questions, but that one managed to tumble out of his mouth before he could really think about it.

“Probably just a prank, they’re really stupid. No way one got in by itself. My money’s on Fred and George.”

“So, why was Professor Quirrell so afraid of it? Isn’t he supposed to be the Defense teacher?”

“He’s scared of everything… remember?” 

“I know, just… something doesn’t seem right.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and left Harry alone with his thoughts.

The next morning Harry waited outside the Great Hall. He paced and began to wonder if he had not gotten down there early enough when he spotted two identical redheads. He breathed a sigh of relief when they weren’t followed by their brother, or Lee Jordan - an almost constant companion of theirs.

“Fred! George! Over here.” He called softly hoping they would hear him and he hadn’t drawn too much attention to himself.

“Morning Harry!” They smiled brightly at him, stopping just before entering the Great Hall. “Need something?”

Harry glanced around and then waved them into an alcove off the main corridor. Instantly their expressions grew more serious and they lowered their voices.

“Everything alright?” Fred looked concerned.

“Yeah, I was just wondering. It wasn’t you two who let in the troll last night… was it?”

George grinned wickedly, “Why Harry! What a compliment. But sadly, no. We have been occupied with a far more difficult task.”

Fred nodded, “We’ve been sneaking up to the third floor, got to find out what Dumbledore’s been hiding.”

Harry’s eyes grew round, “Any success?”

Fred and George looked at each other, seeming to have an entire conversation consisting of eyebrow raises and wiggles, then they grinned.

“Three-headed dog, guarding a trap door. Haven’t managed to get past the dog yet.”

He blinked, “A three-headed dog? In a school?”

“And his name is Fluffy!”

“Fluffy? How on earth did you figure that out?”

“Hagrid’s not exactly subtle mate. We figured who else in the school would know about a three-headed dog.”

Harry’s stomach grumbled loudly and the twins laughed. “Better go get some breakfast, unless you fancy skipping class today and sneaking down to the kitchens?”

“Double Potions today, best not.”

“Something’s not right with that greasy git. He’s got it out for us. Number of times he’s nearly caught us breaking into Fluffy’s room? Nope, best get on with breakfast Harry.”

He didn’t respond to their comments about Snape. Mostly because he found himself in agreement with them. He made his way into the Great Hall, thoughts even more jumbled and confused than they were last night.

As he stirred the mix of runny eggs and hash on his plate he absently started reading a discarded Daily Prophet. After three read throughs of the front page he snatched the paper off the table.

**JUST HOW SAFE IS YOUR GOLD? BREAK-IN AND COVER UP AT GRINGOTTS BANK REVEALED** _  
Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

“That’s when I was there,” he sputtered. “And… and Hagrid emptied a vault!” At Draco, Pansy and Blaise’s clueless expressions he quickly caught them up about the package Hagrid had taken and the three-headed dog the twins had found.

“So you think…” Blaise tried to piece it together.

“THAT is what Fluffy’s guarding!” Harry poked the paper for emphasis. “Whatever Hagrid took out of there, he brought to Hogwarts.”

Although Blaise still seemed somewhat confused, Draco and Pansy’s face had identical shrewd expressions. 

“Well, we have to figure it out now.” Draco kept his voice low and quiet.

“Of course we do,” Pansy agreed. “Can’t let a couple of Gryffindors have all the fun.”

They decided to go visit Hagrid after class. Perhaps something more could be gleaned from the groundskeeper. Potions went by quickly, much to their joint-relief. Snape seemed to be highly preoccupied and after setting them a surprisingly simple potion he sat at his desk, fingers steepled and deep in thought.

Blaise declined to go down to Hagrid’s hut, so it was just the three of them as they knocked on the big wooden door.

“Harry! C’mon then. Inside with ye,” Hagrid seemed somewhat apprehensive as his gaze drifted to Draco and Pansy. “Didn’t figure ye for a Sytherin Harry.” The three shifted uncomfortably, “Now, now I didn’t mean it like tha- alright now mebbe I did. But I’m right glad to see ye down here. Yer lookin’ alright then.”

“I like it in Slytherin, they’re really nice.”

Hagrid didn’t look particularly convinced, but he put on a kettle and soon they fell into a light, if only a little strained, conversation. He seemed particularly pleased at the idea of Harry being on the Quidditch team.

They kept trying to steer the conversation towards the break in at Gringotts without luck. Finally Harry sighed and settled on the most straight-forward approach. “Hagrid, what’s Fluffy guarding?”

There was a large crash as Hagrid dropped the teakettle he was holding, followed by a long silence.

“Now, how do you know about that?”

“Fred and George told me.”

“Never met two bigger troublemakers in my life than them Weasleys. But they shouldn’t have told you that, they should not have told you that.”

“But Hagrid,” Pansy pressed, “We know now. And we saw the paper. Whatever it is he’s guarding… someone’s after it!”

“Now listen here you three, yer meddlin’ in things that are none of yer business. You just be forgettin’ about that dog and whatever he’s guarding. That’s stric’ly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel.” As the last words escaped his mouth a huge hand clamped over it. “I should not have told ye’s tha-” he mumbled from behind his hand.

He looked positively furious as he shooed them out of his hut.


	10. The One Where Harry Almost Dies The First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am -so- sorry this chapter has taken me so long to write! I hope you find it was worth the wait.
> 
> A reminder that sadly, I am not JK and this is not entirely canon Harry Potter, although all character and whatnots are of course her creations. I'm just playing with them a little for my own selfish amusements.

November had dawned bright and cold. Even in the castle most students had taken to wearing scarves as they bundled themselves from class to class. In the morning Hagrid could be seen defrosting broomsticks out on the Quidditch pitch. For, the cold weather had not stopped the team captains from calling a practice every spare moment they got.

The first match of the year was between Slytherin and Gryffindor was rapidly approaching. Between extra practices and the homework which was piling up at an alarming rate, it was no small feat that Harry, Draco, Blaise and Pansy managed to spend as much time researching Nicholas Flamel as they had. Most evenings Madame Pince, had to shoo the four of them out so that they would make it back to the Common Room before curfew.

“We’re not going to find it tonight,” Draco argued, “And even if we were, there’s nothing to stop us from finding it tomorrow night. Harry needs his sleep.”

Although Harry was not a fan of being treated as a child, he appreciated Draco standing up to Pansy. She seemed to take their inability to solve the mysterious Flamel as a personal affront on her intelligence.

“Fine,” she huffed, “Really though, an hour or two can’t hurt.”

“No Pansy.”

She glared at the three of them and then flipped her hair over her shoulder before heading towards the girls’ dormitories. “You’d better win then, Harry,” she called out as she descended down the stairs.

Draco bustled Harry off to bed with the promise to wake him early for a nutritious breakfast. In Harry’s dreams that night he was on a broomstick, darting a snarling dog with more heads that he could count. Just as the dog closed its large mouth around the end of Harry’s broom, the broom transformed into a large strip of cloth that tried to strangle him.

Harry pushed his eggs and toast around his plate this next morning and wondered if anyone would notice if he just vanished.

“Come on Harry, you need your strength today,” Draco waved a sausage in front of his face.

“Yeah, Fred and George are going to be out for your blood. Friends or not… this is Quidditch.”

“Pansy!” Draco groaned, “That is not helping!”

“It’s true!”

Any response from Draco was cut off as the mail owls burst into the Great Hall. Harry glanced up, looking for Hedwig who would sometimes come to say good morning and steal some of his bacon. Everyone he knew that would actually send him any sort of mail was at Hogwarts, so he did a double take when he spotted her and a dark falcon carrying a large package between them. After Hedwig had dropped it down in front of him and stolen everyone’s bacon she nipped at his hand affectionately and flew off. The falcon however stood on the table next to Harry’s goblet, a letter tied to its leg. He reached for the letter and the moment it was freed the falcon took flight.

It would not do for one of my House to use one of the school brooms.  
Severus Snape

Harry recognized the elegant handwriting from his homework, but still spent several moments registering that Snape had sent him a letter, let alone a package. By the time his brain had come around to the package he realized it was no longer in front of him.

“Harry, it’s a Nimbus Two Thousand!” Draco and Blaise, recognizing the packaging, had saved Harry the trouble of unwrapping the shiny black broom.

“Who on earth,” Draco started, but stopped as Harry handed him the note. “Woah…”

“Yeah,” Harry looked up to the Head Table to see the falcon perched on the back of Snape’s chair. Snape was watching for him, and when their eyes met the Potions Master raised his goblet to Harry. After a moment’s shock, Harry returned the salute.

He wasn’t given any time to dwell on Snape’s strange gesture as Flint appeared at his shoulder. “Don’t you go embarrassing that broom today Potter. Come on, time to get dressed.”

Harry followed the rest of the team down to the changing rooms, the new broom practically hummed with energy. Already he could feel it would be far more responsive than the school brooms. And faster too, which truthfully wasn’t difficult.

“Alright men, they’ve got basically the same team as last year. You remember, the one we completely clobbered?”

Higgs and Gemma laughed, Harry tried but it came out like a strange bark. Flint looked at him strangely but continued. “Shouldn’t need anything special to beat them. Save your big moves for when we face Ravenclaw. Short of Harry falling off his broom and not catching the Snitch, I’m not sure how we can lose this one. So get out there and don’t screw it up!”

“That’s… that’s his pep talk?” Harry whispered to Gemma as they got into line and prepared to head onto the pitch.

“Yup. Actually that was pretty encouraging, far as Flint goes.” She looked down at his pale face and patted his shoulder sympathetically, “Don’t worry Harry. You’ll do fine.”

He smiled gratefully at her and tried not to throw up as he stepped out into the sunlight. The stands were packed, it appeared most of the school had turned up for the match. Despite his nerves he didn’t fail to notice that aside from the Slytherin section, the rest of the school were sporting the red and gold colors of Gryffindor.

“Alright,” called Hooch. “I want a fair game, from all of you. Got it?” She seemed to be staring right at Flint. He ignored her and shook the Gryffindor captain’s hand. At her whistle the two teams took their positions in the air.

Harry was grateful that his spot far above the pitch kept him out of most of the action below. He saw the Gyffindor Seeker on the other side, his eyes darting all over looking for the Snitch.

“And the quaffle is immediately snatched by Gryffindor’s most attractive Chaser, Angelina Johnson. Oh and she’s really talented too.”

“JORDAN!”

“Sorry Professor.”

Harry snorted. He recognize the voice as belonging to Fred and George’s friend, Lee Jordan. Sure enough he spotted the dreadlocked Gryffindor in the stands with a megaphone.

As Jordan’s humorous commentary continued Harry kept searching for the elusive shine of the golden snitch. It seemed the Gryffindor Seeker had decided against looking for the snitch on his own and kept on Harry’s tail. He tried to shake him off, but without resorting to some much fancier flying than he felt comfortable with it seemed it was going to be impossible. He dodged a few Bludger’s hit his direction, thanks Fred, and was beginning to grow frustrated. It was hard to concentrate with the other seeker shadowing his every move.

Flint seemed to have noticed because after Gryffindor scored for the third time, he whipped his broom around and collided heavily with the other team’s seeker. Hooch blew a penalty and the commentary suddenly caught Harry’s attention.

"So --after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul…”

“Jordan, I'm warning you --"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

Harry grumbled and made a rude gesture in Jordan’s direction. The other seeker seemed to have taken the hint and was giving Harry a much wider berth. He dodged another Bludger that was expertly aimed at the space his head had previously occupied when he felt his broom jump a little. He tightened his grip as his stomach crawled up his throat. There was no way he was going to fall off the broomstick. Just as he’d managed to right himself, the broom lurched to the left and down. If he didn’t know any better he would have said his broom was trying to throw him off.

Desperately he tried steering his broom towards Flint to ask the captain for a time out. However his broom appeared to no longer be in his control. “Flint!” he called out, hoping the older boy would hear him over the noise of the game. The broom jerked away from him, he felt his hands slipping but managed to catch it in the nick of time. “Flint!” he screamed. Flint’s expression as he turned was nasty, but as he took stock of the situation it immediately became concerned.

In the back of his mind Harry was dimly aware of people beginning to notice in the crowds at the accompanying gasps and shouts. Jordan was commenting on this being a prime example of why first years should not be allowed on House teams and a warning for all not to fly a broom that was too much for them.

Every time Flint or Gemma tried to get near him the broom jerked away. Just as he felt himself losing grip on the broom, it suddenly stilled. Gemma flew up beside him, trying to convince him to move over to her broom. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of gold. Ignoring her shouting at him he pushed his broom into a dive and headed straight for the ground. Gryffindor’s seeker was right on his tail, they jostled each other as they closed on the Snitch. At the last second his fingers brushed, Harry pulled up, bumping into the other seeker as he did and the Snitch slipped out of his grip. The earlier effort of staying on his crazy broom had exhausted him and he fell, landing on the grass with a thud. He coughed, and the snitch shot out of his mouth and into his hand. Lying on the ground he raised his arm as high as he could, the snitch clenched tightly.

Gryffindor were not pleased. Wood, the Captain and Keeper, was arguing with Madam Hooch as they carried Harry off the field. But there were no rules against it, Slytherin had won fair and square.

“What happened to your broom mate?” Flint was decidedly warmer to Harry now that he had just won them their first game.

“I dunno. Just started jerking and squirming. Didn’t matter what I did.”

“You’ll want to have Snape look at that then. I don’t know why it stopped all of a sudden, but I wouldn’t trust it.”

Harry didn’t have much of a choice about that. As soon as he emerged from the changing room he found himself face to face with a furious Snape. Snape took the broom and barked at Harry to follow him, his black robes billowed behind him as he stormed through the castle to his office.

Still giving no explanation for his behavior he ran a hand over the broom muttering a number of incantations Harry did not recognize. Finally, satisfied, he lifted his dark eyes from the broom to Harry.

“Are you alright?”

Harry blinked and then nodded, “Y’yes sir. Just a little tired.”

“Your broom was jinxed, that is why it behaved as it did.”

“But, who would…”

“Professor Quirrell. He is not to be trusted.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Finally Harry could bear it no longer, “Sir, why are you telling me that?”

“I have my reasons Mr Potter. They are my own and I should hope you will respect that.” Snape’s melodic voice held more than its usual share of sadness to it.

Harry nodded, and suddenly found himself speaking before he was able to stop himself.

“Sir, you knew my parents didn’t you?” his voice was small, almost desperate. He glanced up at the Professor. He hardly recognized Snape’s face. It had softened, the gaunt angles smoothed out til he looked… young. A long slender hand brushed the hair back as he sighed.

“Your mother was lovely.”

Harry wisely did not ask about his father. “Would you, would you mind telling me about her? I, I don’t really know anything.”

Snape snorted, some of the hardness returning to his face. “Yes, I don’t imagine Petunia would have had anything pleasant, or true, to say about Lily.”

Harry hung his head, “No, sir.”

“I will tell you about her,” he held up a slender finger, stopping Harry’s excited question, “Not right now. Your classmates, I am sure, are waiting to celebrate the victory. Perhaps over Christmas, I would imagine you are remaining here?”

Harry, who hadn’t known that was an option until just then nodded. No way was he going back to Privet Drive if he didn’t have to.

“Over Christmas then.” Snape’s words were a dismissal and so Harry turned to leave. He paused in the doorway.

“Professor Snape?” The Potions Master looked up from the book he had pulled out, his dark eyes hidden behind a curtain of hair.

“Thank you for the broom. It’s brilliant.” Without waiting for an answer Harry hurried down the hall.

“You’re welcome, Harry,” Snape spoke softly to the empty room.


	11. The One Where It's Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaah you guys are the BEST! I absolutely love the comments, and holy moley we're nearly at 100 kudos! Weeeeeee! Makes my day, SIRIUSLY - sorry couldn't help myself lol.
> 
> Just a note, the betting bit is from another GREAT Slytherin!Harry fic called Leo In Serpentis. I just loved it too much not to include it in mine <3 No plagiarism or anything intended!!!

“What do you mean it was Quirrell?” Harry frantically tried to shush Pansy but thankfully her voice had reached a register understandable only to bats, of which the Slytherin common room was, to the surprise of anyone in a different house, empty.

“I mean Professor Snape said that it was Quirrell jinxing my broom.” 

“Why would Dumbledore hire a professor that wanted to kill one of the students?” Draco had taken the news more calmly than the others. He seemed to be turning it over in his head as a particularly complex puzzle that required only the application of the correct logic to solve. It was rather Ravenclaw of him, but no one present would have dared mention that to the Malfoy heir.

“It’s not like Dumbledore really cares.” The three turned to look at Blaise, although their expressions were surprised, Harry couldn’t help but agree. “Well come on, he sent us and the Hufflepuffs down to the dungeons at Halloween… you know… where the TROLL was.”

“Well,” Harry looked at Draco and Pansy, “He’s not wrong. Oh Merlin, what if Quirrell was the one who let the troll in! Did you see him with the other teachers?”

They shook their heads. “Why though?” Draco’s face looked as though his brain was ready to melt out his ears as he worked the problem around in his mind. Pansy and Blaise just looked stunned.

Harry jumped up and began pacing in front of the fire. “Why any of it? Why would anyone want to kill me? I mean… Vol… You-Know-Who,” he stammered. “Why would You Know Who want to kill me when I was a baby? What’s so special about me?”

His friends looked lost and Harry looked miserable. He’d been dying to ask someone that question since he’d found out. Unfortunately his friends had no more idea than he did.

The rest of the month passed quickly. Harry buried himself in his studies and spent every spare moment trying to follow Quirrell and figure out what he was up to. It was harder than he’d thought. Filch and his cat seemed to be everywhere. And where they weren’t, Peeves was. The poltergeist didn’t exactly want to get Harry in trouble as much as he seemed to just incinerate chaos everywhere he went.

Harry woke up the morning of December first to discover Christmas had exploded all over Hogwarts. Several feet of snow had fallen overnight and the corridors were positively frozen. Fireplaces all over the castle blazed brightly, but the dungeons stayed so cold they could see their breath.

“You know, it’s a shame some people have to stay at the castle over the holidays because their family doesn’t want them.” Ron’s voice carried over the frozen Potions classroom on the last day of term to where Draco and Harry were huddled near their cauldron trying to stay warm.

Both Slytherins would be staying at Hogwarts over Christmas. Harry stiffened. He was happy to be staying at the castle, it would probably be the best Christmas ever. But he hated the reminder of how unwanted he was. As he felt Draco moving beside him he reminded himself he wasn’t alone, not anymore. The blond boy had spent the first part of December trying to convince Harry to come with him to Malfoy manor. When that hadn’t worked he had announced he would be staying as well.

They quickly finished up the potion and Harry sighed with relief as Professor Snape released them for the term. The moment they were in the hall Ron whirled on them.

He followed them through the passage towards the Great Hall. “What’s the matter Malfoy? Mommy and Daddy too busy being Death Eaters to worry about a little thing like Christmas with their son?”

“Oh that is enough!” Draco whispered furiously under his breath and turned, wand in his hand. Harry grabbed his wand and turned just in time to see Professor McGonnagall standing behind Ron with her arms crossed.

“Five points from Slytherin, Mr Malfoy.” Her keen eyes rested on Harry with more than a little bit of sadness. “And you as well, Mr Potter. I expected better of you.”

“But Professor! Weasley provoked them.” Pansy spoke out from behind them.

“Fighting is against school rules Miss Parkinson. Be grateful I did not take more than that. Now, move along. All of you.”

“I really hate that freckled git,” Draco muttered as they made their way to the Slytherin table.

“You know…” Harry’s green eyes held a twinkle of mischief. “We never did use the information Fred and George gave us to get back at him.”

“You’re right,” Draco looked cheered. “And now we have the whole Christmas break with no homework to work on what we’re going to do.”

“And to search for Nicholas Flamel,” Pansy reminded them.

“Pansy, we have looked everywhere.”

“Not,” she lowered her voice and leaned over the table, “In the restricted section.”

Draco threw a dramatic hand over his mouth and put on the most shocked expression he could manage. “Pansy! Doth my ears deceive me? Are you suggesting we break school rules?”

“I never!” Harry managed to squeak out before dissolving in giggles. The truth was they had searched the entire library with no mention of Flamel. Other than the restricted section there were no other leads.

On Monday Pansy and Blaise boarded the Hogwarts Express along with most of the school, leaving Harry and Draco in an almost deserted Common Room. Gemma and a few of the other older students stayed behind to study for their NEWTS.

Draco decided he was going to teach Harry wizard’s chess, as it was apparently a Malfoy tradition that he would be missing out on this year. Harry took to the game quite readily and they spent most of their time in front of the fire, plotting how they would exact revenge on a certain redhead.

Christmas morning Harry woke up and blinked in surprise at the pile of presents at the foot of his bed. He was glad he had arranged for owls to deliver presents to his friends. It had been quite the challenge keeping it from Pansy and Draco. Speaking of Draco, he grinned and reached into his trunk, pulling out a green and silver wrapped present from his trunk and slipping it into the pile of gifts at the end of Draco’s bed.

“Happy Christmas Harry,” Draco mumbled sleepily and rolled out of bed, a smile on his face.

“You too!”

They wasted no time and tore into the presents. At the top of Harry’s pile was a note written on what looked like a used napkin from Petunia and Vernon asking if he could find out whether or not he was allowed to stay at Hogwarts over the summer holidays as well. He crumpled it up and tossed it under his bed.

From Draco he received a beautifully carved wizard’s chess set. He stared at it for a long while before getting up and wrapping the taller boy in a hug. “It’s gorgeous Draco! Thank you.” Draco returned the hug and then held up the rare Quidditch book Harry had gotten him.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for this one!”

Harry smirked. When the bookstore owner had heard it was for Harry Potter he had been most obliging. He felt a little guilty using his name like that, but he pushed down those feelings quickly at the pleased look on Draco’s face.

Harry sat surrounded by crumpled paper, Draco had gone to the owlery to send a letter to his father and Harry was happy for the few moments alone with his thoughts. He glanced around taking it all in when he saw a present still wrapped. He pulled it over and saw it was addressed to him with a simple note:

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you.

He frowned at the handwriting, it was narrow and loopy - Harry was certain he’d never seen it before. Curiosity peaked he unwrapped the present revealing a liquid silver cloak. Settling the beautiful cloak around his shoulders he stepped in front of the mirror and nearly screamed. His body was completely gone, only his head remained.

My dad’s cloak Harry thought, his -invisibility- cloak his fingers running down the inside of the smooth fabric. His thoughts were interrupted by the return of Draco to the dorm. Quickly he stuffed the cloak into his trunk, he didn’t feel like anyone else knowing he had it, not even his best friend.

The day passed in a blur. Harry and Draco had played a few games of chess. Although more intelligent than the school chess sets, Harry’s new set didn’t entirely trust him. Draco assured him after playing more with it everything would work out. Given the way Draco’s set co-operated with him he was inclined to believe the older boy.

As evening fell they made their way to the Great Hall. It was unlike any of the previous feasts. Trees at least a dozen feet tall adorned the corners, decorated in beautiful twinkling lights. And the food! Never in his life had Harry seen mountains of turkeys, hams, and every side dish he could imagine. Scattered along the tables were Christmas Crackers. Not like the cheap Muggles ones he’d seen on Petunia’s table. Harry and Draco pulled one and the explosion practically knocked him off his chair. Several live white mice scurried away leaving only a pirate hat which Draco immediately set on his head.

Up at the head table Dumbledore had swapped out his usual pointed hat for a lurid orange paper crown. His eyes grew wide as he spotted a red-faced Hagrid giving Professor McGonnagall a kiss on the cheek. He fully expected her to Transfigure him into something hideous and could only gape as the elderly woman giggled.

“Whatcha reckon Harry, Draco?” Gemme settled herself down on the chair opposite, a parchment and quill in her hand.

“Huh?” Harry turned and looked at her, utterly confused.

“Who do ya figure will be most hungover tomorrow? It’s a bit of a running Slytherin bet for as long as anyone can remember.”

Draco nodded, “Father told me.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a Galleon. “On Pomfrey.”

Harry looked up at the head table again. Pomfrey was giggling away with Professor Flint. In fact, all the teachers except Snape seemed to be well into their cups. Snape caught his eye and smirked knowingly, his black eyes then looked over at Hooch. Harry followed and nearly spat out his pumpkin juice.

“Hooch, it’s definitely going to be Hooch.”

Gemma looked puzzled, but took his Galleon and wrote down his entry anyway. 

“Really?” Draco seemed puzzled. “She doesn’t seem too bad?”

Harry grinned, Madam Hooch was sitting beside Sprout singing a Christmas carol. “Trust me, that is not how that song is supposed to go.” 

Draco and Harry were singing Hooch’s version of the song as they headed down to the dungeons. 

Harry sat on his bed after the other boy went to sleep, he waited until Draco’s breathing had completely evened out and then pulled out the invisibility cloak. Carefully so his footsteps wouldn’t give him away he snuck out of the doors, and then out into the halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a super busy weekend ahead. So likely no new chapters til next week. But I've already started on Chapter Twelve so hopefully you'll see something by Monday afternoon at the latest!
> 
> As always comments and whatnots are wonderful!


	12. The One Where Snape Is A Person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW you guys!! <3 You're all just so nice!
> 
> Over 100 Kudos, I'm legit blown away. I know I said I wasn't going to get a chapter up this weekend, and this one is, admittedly, a bit short. But it was just so sweet (at least I think so) that I wanted to get it posted :D

Draco was going to go insane when he found out not only did Harry have the cloak, but had used it without him. He didn’t even want to think of what Pansy would say. His only defense was that it felt right, just him on the first night.

He could easily imagine his father creeping through the castle at night. Was he alone? Or did James have friends that came with him? What about his mum? If they were both magic, as Hagrid seemed to imply, then they must have known each other at school.

Not for the first time, Harry found himself drowning in just how little he knew about his mother and father. He swallowed back tears as he wandered the halls aimlessly not certain what he was looking for, but revelling in the freedom the cloak had brought him.

The castle felt different at night. He knew there were ghosts, he’d seen the Bloody Baron lurking around the Slytherin common room, and he’d heard that other houses each had their ghosts. But there were other ghosts tonight. Although most of the portraits were quiet, he could feel the energies in the corridor. Shivering he kept walking, lost in memories he didn’t have. 

Pushing a door open he slipped into an unused classroom. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until his gaze dropped onto an ornate mirror propped into the corner of the classroom. He stepped up, pulling off the cloak and draping it over the chair. Around the frame was an inscription: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Curiosity getting the better of him he stepped in front of the mirror and nearly screamed. He whirled around, but the classroom was still empty. Shaking, he turned back to the mirror. There, behind him was a crowd of people, all smiling down at him. 

As he watched, two figures pushed through to stand beside him. A slender woman with flaming red hair that fell to her waist looked down tenderly, tears in her eyes. Harry noticed with a shock that her eyes were the exact same shade of green as his. A man stood behind her, an arm wrapped around her waist. His hair stuck up in every direction and he grinned at Harry.

“Mum? Dad?” Harry reached forward and put a hand on the mirror. His mum nodded and reached out her hand to mirror his. Tears fell freely from both their eyes, behind them Harry recognized other pairs of green eyes, flaming red hair, or lopsided smiles and he realized he was looking at his family. His heart in his chest as he took in their faces one by one. As his eyes rested on a pale face with dark eyes a hand landed on his shoulder.

[ ](http://imgur.com/xauG6hC)

Harry yelped and turned to see Professor Snape looking down at him with the softest expression on his face. “I… I…” he stammered trying to think of reasons he would be out after curfew.

Instead of harsh, Snape’s silky voice was quiet and low, “What do you see, Harry?”

Swallowing, Harry looked up at Snape’s pale face, almost too stunned to answer. He looked back in the mirror. His family was still there, and Snape, reflected beside him. Something about the way his mother looked at Snape pushed him to answer truthfully. “My family. Mum, Dad… everyone…”

Snape’s hand tightened on Harry’s shoulder as he looked into the mirror. Something about the way he stood, looking longingly into the mirror, made him seem far more human. “Do you know what this mirror does?”

Harry had pieced it together, at least somewhat. “It shows what we really want?”

Snape rumbled in semi-approval. “Very close, look at the inscription.”

Harry peered at it and then suddenly his face brightened, “I show not your face but your heart’s desire!”

As Snape looked down at Harry he smiled and Harry was stunned at the way it transformed the Professor’s face. He didn’t think that after tonight he’d ever see the man the same way again. He seemed less harsh and cold, and more… sad. “That is correct. This is the Mirror of Erised. Very easy to get lost in front of it… mmm?” He spoke the last as if he had forgotten Harry was in the room.

Harry looked back in the mirror, taking in his parents’ smiling faces, “What do you see?” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He was just about to apologize when Snape answered.

“Things I can never have, Harry.” His voice was broken and Harry ducked his head, feeling embarassed to have asked such a private question. “I think, it is perhaps time to return to your dormitory. I should warn you, do not go looking for the mirror again Harry. It is… dangerous.”

Snape didn’t elaborate but Harry thought that he understood. He nodded and turned to pick up the cloak. Glancing back at the older man he was worried that it might be taken away from him, but Snape’s gaze was still on the mirror.

“Professor?” he called from the door. “Y-you said over the holidays, that you would, I mean we could…”

“I have not forgotten. After breakfast tomorrow, my office.”

“Thank you,” Harry ducked out of the classroom, pulling the cloak on as he ran back to his room. His mind swimming with what had just happened.

Somehow, the events of the previous night seemed far too personal to share with anyone, even Draco. A part of him knew that the side of Professor Snape he had seen last night was not a side he wished revealed, although he didn’t fully understand it. Tucking his cloak away deep into his trunk Harry slipped into bed, sleep coming surprisingly easily to his busy mind.

After breakfast the next morning Harry made his way down to the dungeons. Professor Snape had not made an appearance but Harry was certain he had not forgotten. It was particularly freezing in the corridors, Harry could see his breath as he pushed into the potions classroom and called out quietly, “Professor?”

Snape was sitting at his desk and looked up as Harry walked in. “Mr. Potter,” he said by way of greeting. It was not lost on Harry that the man had gone back to using his surname, although the tone was distinctly different. Standing, Snape strode past Harry and pushed open a door he’d never noticed before. As he walked in he realized this must be Snape’s private office.

The walls of the room were lined with shelves upon shelves of jars which Harry assumed were Snape’s own personal supply. Each jar was neatly labeled with the older man’s spidery handwriting. In the far corner a fire blazed brightly, adding a small touch of warmth to what would have otherwise been a dimly lit and depressing room. Pushed up near the fire were two chairs. Harry got the distinct impression they were a rather recent addition to the room.

Snape gestured for him to sit, and then settled into the other chair. After a long, awkward pause, Snape spoke. His voice much the same as it had been the previous night. “Your mother, was my only friend.”


	13. The One Where Things Are Figured Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can all blame Chewbecca and Starlightwolf for the fact this took me a few days to write. Not only was the scene between Harry and Snape really tough to write, they went and got me totally hooked on a new TV show called Person of Interest.
> 
> ANYWAY, new chapter! Yay! I hope you like it. I got some wonderful ideas for things to do in the future while writing, I hope you guys like them! Oh, and you can listen to the song I mention here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uj0UBMgR2gk

“She was muggleborn, right?” Harry pressed his lips together, expecting the older wizard to snap at him for interrupting. Instead, as he looked over he saw Snape’s pale face darken and his eyes close. Harry could have sworn that he saw a tear. Quickly looking away he stared into the fire.

“Yes, she was.” Snape paused for so long Harry wondered if that was all the Potions Master was going to say. When he spoke again Harry almost didn’t recognize his voice, “We were in the same year at Hogwarts, but I knew her before that.

“I was the one to tell her that she was a witch,” Harry detected a note of pride in Snape’s voice under the sadness. His thin lips curled in a light smile at the memory. “Lily Evans loved magic, the way she loved life. Nothing was half done, ever. Once she’d made up her mind to do something, she threw her entire self into it. It was a wonder to behold.”

Harry smiled, picturing a younger version of the woman he had seen in the Mirror of Erised - her flaming red hair falling down around her shoulders, green eyes sparkling with excitement.

“She was truly gifted. And she had a way about her, everyone loved her. She absolutely charmed the teachers, although it did not hurt that she threw herself into learning and studying magic. Your mother faced every challenge with grace and vigor. Top of every class, except Potions.”

Snape smirked and Harry allowed himself a little laugh.

“Lily hated the Gryffindor colors. I told her once she would have looked better in Slytherin green, she hexed me rather well for that one. I spent nearly three weeks in the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey never did figure out exactly which spell she used. Your mother had a knack for creating spells. And she could do the most amazing things on the violin.”

He paused and then stood, striding across the room to a bookshelf that Harry hadn’t noticed before. It held a rather extensive collections of records and what looked like an old record player. Snape took down a plain album, gently drawing out the vinyl and placing it on the player. It scratched ever so slightly and then Harry heard a girl laughing.

His breath caught in his throat. He wished he could wipe the tears that began to fall but he found it was utterly incapable of moving. The melody was piercing, Harry was transfixed. He closed his eyes and pictured his mother, her hair falling down her back, eyes closed, losing herself in the music. The rise and fall of the music completely captivated him as he listened.

As the music reached its peak Harry couldn’t breathe. When the record player stopped the final notes hung hauntingly in the air.

Neither spoke for several moments, letting the music and the feeling of Lily fill the space between them. Snape pushed his long dark hair aside, “She loved that song. It is called Scheherazade. Not just the song, but the story as well.

“Scheherazade was a legendary witch, and one of the many wives of a Persian king, Shahryar. He learned that his wife had been unfaithful and so he cast her aside and determined that no woman was capable of fidelity. Shahryar decided that he would marry a new bride each morning, and cast her aside that night. But Scheherazade loved the king. She volunteered to marry him, knowing what he had planned in his heart.

“After dinner the first day they were married, Scheherazade began to tell the king a story. But she was a clever witch, she ended each night with the story incomplete. And so Shahryar had to wait until dinner the next evening to hear what happened next.

“Every night for a thousand and one nights Scheherazade told her story. Finally, when she had no more tales to tell, Shahryar realizes that he had fallen in love with her, and so made her his queen.”

Snape finished his tale and smiled softly. “Your mother was the eternal romantic. She loved everything about the story and that song. If you would like, I can make a copy of it for you.”

“That would be, but I don’t have any way of play-” Harry blinked as Snape waved his wand and a small version of the record player appeared in his hand. On it sat a single record. He coughed, clearing his throat as he took the gift. “Thank you, sir. For telling me about her.”

Snape did not answer, but inclined his head towards the younger boy. After a pause, Harry slipped out of the office. He guessed that there was probably more the older man could tell him. But it didn’t feel right to press. Perhaps, another time, Snape would be willing to share more? Harry wondered if there were others he would ask. Dumbledore maybe? He frowned. Something did not sit right with him about the Headmaster’s actions. And the strange look on his face as he studied Harry at meals. No, he intended to steer clear of Professor Dumbledore.

Not wanting to return to the dorms just yet he found himself wandering the corridors until he wound up in the library. Absently he took a book off the shelf and began to read. Alchemy was not a subject they had started studying yet but it sounded interesting. Turning one thing into another seemed a lot like Transfiguration to him, he wondered at the difference.

_The Alchemist cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is alchemy's first law of Equivalent Exchange._

The law settled in his mind as he flipped through the other pages when suddenly he saw a picture of Dumbledore. The wizard looked younger, although still quite old, and was standing next to another wizard. The were standing behind a table of strange looking equipment.

Curious, Harry began to read.

_Nicolas Flamel, pictured here with his associate Albus Dumbledore, is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone.The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year and enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

Harry gaped and read it over again. His mind reeling. He snatched up the book and bolted back to the Common Room.

“Draco!” he shouted. Thankfully the rest of the house was out having a snowball fight or something. The Malfoy heir was at a desk in the corner, writing a letter to his father. As Harry burst in he looked up, utterly confused.

“Harry wha-”

“I found him!” Harry slammed the book down on the desk, knocking the inkwell on the floor. He quickly opened to the page and watched as Draco read, his face morphing from irritated confusion to glee.

“You found him,” Draco echoed.

“That’s what Fluffy’s guarding,” he struggled to keep his voice down. “That’s what Hagrid took from Gringotts and now they’re hiding it here in the castle. But, hiding it from who?”

“Who wouldn’t want a stone that makes gold and lets you live forever? It sounds brilliant.” The eager look on Draco’s face made Harry slightly uneasy. “Don’t look at me like that Harry. I’m just saying. It’s going to be hard to figure out because everyone wants it.”

Harry frowned. Draco’s points made more sense than he liked. And then he paused, “Why do we need to figure it out though? I mean… why us? The teachers are obviously protecting it, what can a couple of first years do?”

“Teachers can make mistakes. I mean… Dumbledore sent us down to the dungeons when the troll was on the loose for Merlin’s sake! And if they’re not going to do it properly, then why not,” Draco smirked, “The Boy Who Lived!” He finished with a flourish.

If it weren’t for the fact that the blond boy had pulled out his wand, ready to defend himself, Harry would have hexed him then and there. Their classes, even Defense Against the Dark Arts hadn’t taught them any jinxes or hexes. In fact, Defense was utterly useless. Fortunately the older students had taught them several to defend themselves against other Houses in the hall. For a moment Harry paused as his mind processed what Draco had said.

The mention of the other Houses got him thinking. He knew Gryffindor were renowned for their “saviors”. An irritating and puffed up byproduct of the courageous and brave qualities everyone kept going on about. And given what Weasley had said, everyone had expected him to wind up in Gryffindor - simply because he managed, somehow, to survive Voldemort’s killing curse when he was a baby? What if he had wound up in Gryffindor? Would his housemates push him forward to fix all their problems, content to stand back and expect miracles? Would everyone? He remembered the look of betrayal on many faces as the Sorting Hat put him in Slytherin and he shuddered.

No, he was quite happy in Slytherin where he belonged.

“Uhhh Harry?”

The dark haired boy shook his head, clearing away his musings and then stuck his tongue out at Draco. “Oh sure I’ll just magically fix it all because I’m special. Right, be back before lunch then.”

They devolved into giggles at the idea and then turned their attention to cleaning up the mess. Harry wanted to write Pansy and Blaise but Draco shook his head.

“Post can be watched, owls intercepted. I don’t fancy drawing attention to the fact that we know what’s being hidden in the school, do you?”

Harry agreed, but he was not looking forward to Pansy’s reaction when he told her that he’d figured out the mystery. The idea of telling her long distance was highly appealing, not to mention significantly safer.

A full week, and several midnight excursions around the castle later, guilt got the better of him. Harry pulled back his curtains as he and Draco were preparing to go to bed and cleared his throat.

“Uhhh, Draco? I’ve got something to tell you.”

Draco stuck his head out from his bed curtains and frowned at the sight of Harry fully dressed. “It can’t wait til morning?”

“Trust me, it’s better now.” Harry pulled the invisibility cloak out from behind his back. Draco was standing in front of him before he could blink.

“Harry! This is… but it’s… how did you?”

Harry handed over the note and grinned. After Draco read it he looked extremely put out.

“You’ve had this since Christmas and you’re just showing me now?”

“I’m… sorry. It was my father’s and I just.”

Draco nodded. He, like everyone, knew enough of Harry’s past to have some understanding of why a magical item belonging to his dad would feel highly personal. He ran his fingers along the smooth silvery fabric and grinned.

“We could do so much with this.” Draco’s voice was soft and reverent. “So much…”

“I know,” Harry grinned. “Still mad I kept you up?”

The two snuck out of the dormitory and down to the kitchen. For the rest of winter break they snuck out each night, exploring the castle and spending a fair bit of time in the kitchen. As they slipped back into the dorms, warm and happy from the large mugs of Butterbeer, the night before the rest of the students would be returning Draco turned to Harry.

“You know Pansy is absolutely going to kill us right?”

“Definitely. We’re going to have to take her down the kitchens before class starts. Maybe Fred and George will come too? If we introduce her to the Weasley twins there’s a chance she might forgive us.”

“That’s a pretty slim chance there.”

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone else ready for Pansy to completely flip out?? I AM! lol  
> Also more Gred and Forge... awww yissssssssssssssssssssssss.  
> \----  
> The alchemical law is from Full Metal Alchemist, it seemed to fit well here! And the text about Flamel is straight from the books :)


	14. The One Where Snape Is Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! I am SO sorry it took so long to update. It's been... yeah. Anyway, if you're still here, and still checking for updates, thank you SO much!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter, and as always... I love dem comments <3

As it turns out, Pansy was far more excited about the discovery of what Fluffy was guarding than the fact that they’d waited until she returned to Hogwarts to tell her. She even applauded Draco’s wisdom in not sending an owl.

“It’s a longshot, of course,” she mused, mostly to herself as they walked down to the Quidditch pitch. “But Quirrell jinxed your broom for a reason. He could well be watching your mail too.”

At the mention of the jinxed broom Harry paled slightly. Snape had assured him that there were no lingering incantations or hexes on his Nimbus 2000, but what was to stop someone from trying again? It was so very nearly successful the first time after all. He tightened his grip on the dark wood and stepped forward to join the rest of the team. As the Seeker, he didn’t practice with the team so much as at the same time. Flint ran the others through drills and shooting practice, Harry would release the snitch and fly through them, trying to catch it.

Today, he was on high alert, his knuckles white as they gripped the handle of the broom beneath him. He took several steadying breaths, watching the cloud of fog idly, and considering for a moment the ridiculousness that was Quidditch, and flying brooms, and magic. He was eleven years old, a crazy wizard murdered his parents and tried to kill him too. Now another crazy wizard that was also his teacher was what, trying to finish the job? His stomach lurched as the broom dipped. 

“Oiy! Potter!” Flint’s irritated shout cut through his musings. “Are you just pitch decoration now? Or are you a Seeker?”

“Sorry Flint!” he called back, ducking his head to hide the flush of embarrassment as the team turned to look at him. He quickly pulled his broom into a quick lap of the pitch, ignoring the way his stomach leapt into his throat. His eyes scanned the stands, looking for any sign of the small golden ball. Draco and Pansy were sat near the dressing rooms, he could see them both huddled around a small jar of blue flame. As he flew past he noticed another figure, clothed in black, with a large tome on its lap, sat several rows behind his friends. Dark eyes, nearly hidden behind equally dark hair followed his every move. Snape.

Knowing the professor was there, watching, gave Harry more comfort than he could have imagined. It was strange, an adult looking out for him. And he knew, despite all the insanity, he would not trade his life here at Hogwarts for anything.

Over the next few days, the weather grew worse. But that didn’t stop Flint from holding practice three more nights that week. Apparently, blinding sleet, and temperatures that practically froze them to their brooms were no excuse. Each evening, Snape took his place in the stands just as the team was heading out onto the pitch, and stayed until they hustled off into the change rooms.

The first Sunday after term, Harry picked at his breakfast. A glance up at the Head Table revealed the Potion’s Master in his usual place, and Harry stubbornly refused to look that way for the rest of the meal. He waited until he caught a glimpse of billowing black robes disappearing out of the Great Hall and then stood, having rearranged the food on his plate enough to make it look as though he’d eaten. With a deep sigh he made his way to the Potion’s classroom and knocked lightly on the door. He wasn’t sure exactly sure what to say to the older man, his tongue felt thick and awkward as Snape ushered him in.

For Snape’s part it would seem he was content to continue on. He directed Harry’s attention to a potion on the chalkboard, and retired behind his desk. While Harry worked he would occasionally ask what he was doing, or question him on the reasoning behind chopping versus slicing, or the correct technique. Harry worked in silence, speaking only to answer the questions.

As he packed up his things, Snape having declared his work finished for the day, he glanced over at his teacher. He felt guilty, not acknowledging the man’s sacrifice of time. Before he could chicken out he cleared his throat. “Umm, Professor?”

The black eyes flicked up from the papers they were reading, the lips that had been curled in disgust softened slightly, the pale features curious. “Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“I, uhh. I noticed you, at the practices. It’s just....” Harry took a deep breath. Why was saying thank you so difficult? Probably because he’d never in his life willingly said thank you to an adult in his life, a small voice at the back of his mind responded. He grimaced, thinking of all the times the Dursleys had forced him to say thank you for their castoffs, or even worse, to tell him how lucky he knew he was they took such good care of him.

Snape’s eyebrow arched at the dark look growing on the boy’s face. He pursed his thin lips and kept silent. It didn’t matter what Harry was about to say, regarding his attendance at practices. Dumbledore seemed fairly unconcerned that the broom had been jinxed. He seemed content to write it off as a Gryffindor prank. The old fool had written the Potter boy off the moment the Sorting Hat had placed him into Slytherin. He and everyone it seemed. Regardless, he kept his thoughts off his face as he waited for Harry to speak.

“Thank you.” Mentally he cursed himself for how long he’d faffed about, only to settle on the simplest two words imaginable. He opened his mouth to continue, but Snape beat him to it.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Potter.” For a moment Snape looked as though he was going to speak futher, his dark eyes searching the younger boy’s face. Then, he shook his head slightly, Harry took that as his cue to leave, and left the dark classroom.

Snape steepled his hands and leaned forward as Harry closed the door. He’d considered warning him about Dumbledore’s seeming lack of concern for his safety. But it served no purpose. And Snape was not inclined to worry him about something he could do nothing to change. The boy was a Slytherin, one of his own House. If Dumbledore would not protect him because the Boy Who Lived was sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, then he would do it instead, and hang that old fool.

As the match approached Flint worked them harder than ever. Gryffindor was closing in on them for the House Cup, and if they lost this match it put the other house in perfect position to overtake them. After one particularly difficult practice where Harry hadn’t managed to find the Snitch for nearly three hours he snarled and cursed all the way back to the locker room.

“Bad enough they’re going to accuse us of cheating with Snape refereeing the match, but…”

“Snape’s going to be the ref?” Harry sputtered, cutting off the large boy’s tirade.

“Yeah,” Flint grunted. “Worked it out with Dumbledore, to stop anyone from messing with you he said.”

Harry felt a strange warmth in the center of his chest. It was nice, not being completely on his own. Later that night as he curled up under the covers, pleasantly stuffed from dinner, and listening to the soft snores of his dormmates he smiled.

As news spread that Snape would be refereeing the upcoming match, the tone of the other Houses changed. Slytherin was not on particularly good terms with any of the others. But where it had, for the most, been a frosty truce, it began to devolve into all out war. The teachers seemed happy to turn a blind eye, or dock points from the Slytherin students who fought back.

Harry was curled up on the giant couch in the corner of the Common Room with Draco and Pansy, working on homework, when he heard angry shouts coming from the other side of the room. The crowd parted around Gemma as she pushed through and pointed her wand at a figure on the ground, uttering the counterspell for the Leg-Locker Curse. Most of the seventh and sixth years flooded out, brandishing their wands, as Gemma helped the figure stand.

“Merlin, it’s Blaise!” Harry shoved his books off his lap and rushed across the room.

“Weasley,” Gemma glowered. 

“The twins?” Harry looked stunned. He knew Fred and George liked a good trick, but this was…

“No, Ron,” Blaise groused. “Caught me coming out of the library and said he’d been dying to practice it.”

Draco snarled and grabbed his wand, heading towards the door. Gemma reached out and grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back. “Leave it, Draco.” He swirled, pointing his wand at her. “What, going to curse me? The entire rest of the school hates us. Let’s not hate each other, kay?” He lowered the wand and glowered at her, but finally stepped back. “Look, this is what being Slytherin is alright? The teachers aren’t going to help us. Dumbledore is certainly not going to help us. We have each other, that’s it. Fight back if you have to,” her lips curled into a smirk, “Just don’t get caught.”


	15. The One Where Harry and Draco Get Revenger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a bit longer than I'd planned to get this chapter up! But I'm camping now and my goal is to finish off this book (ambition I know) and perhaps get a start on the next. I'm working on a small screen so please forgive any errors as it's a lot tougher to edit!
> 
> Enjoy, and as always your comments totally make my day!

Not getting caught was at the forefront of Harry’s mind when he slipped out of his bed, still fully dressed, Invisibility Cloak in hand. Careful not to wake Blaise or Nott, he padded across the floor and reached through the curtains to shake Draco awake. The blond boy woke with a grunt and Harry froze, listening to for any changes in breathing in the other two. After a moment he leaned forward, whispering, “I think it’s time we taught dear ol Weasley a lesson, but I need your help.”

Even in the moonlight, the look of pure delight was evident on Draco’s face. His pale features looked wicked as he grinned and scrambled to get dressed. Before long they were huddled under the cloak, making their way out of the dorms and into the halls. 

They kept their silence until they carefully closed the door on an unused classroom. Draco leaned against the wall easily, watching Harry with an expectant look on his face. Harry pushed his fingers through his unruly hair, “I figure, we never did use that little tidbit from Fred and George.”

Draco nodded in agreement, “He may well be expecting retaliation but that little git… it’s time we did something.”

“The sixth and seventh years couldn’t find him. He’s probably hiding out in the tower. Such a brave ickly Gryffindor. So, we’re going to get him at breakfast. And… we’re going to do it without touching him.” 

“How?”

“With these!” Harry produced a third year Transfiguration textbook, a small misshapen bag and a candle that looked very similar to the ones that hung all over the ceiling in the Great Hall. He dropped the book onto the table with a thud, and thumbed through until he landed on the right page. “There,” he pointed with the candle to a page titled Arachnifors. The page detailed a rather complicated wand movement beside a diagram that showed a jack turning into a spider.

Draco pushed off the wall and bent over the text, reading eagerly. Pale blond locks fell in his face and he pushed them aside as he straightened. “It’s perfect, complicated, but perfect. A jack is one thing, but…” he gestured to the candle. “This is going to take a while.” He pulled out his wand, face screwed up in concentration as he began to practice the wand movement.

After they were both reasonably sure they’d gotten the movement and the incantation down, Harry upended the bag on the table, revealing a number of jacks. Several hours later Draco had managed to transfigure most of them into small little spiders that skittered around on the table. Meanwhile, Harry’s best attempt had 8 spindly legs, and a metal body.

“We can’t all be brilliant,” Draco beamed as he transfigured the last jack into a Slytherin green spider.

“Yeah well Mr Brilliant, you’re going to have to do the prank on your own. I’ll never be able to transfigure the candle into a spider.” Harry slipped his wand up his sleeve, admitting defeat. He disliked not being able to contribute to the prank beyond the initial idea, well almost initial. Fred and George deserved some of the credit. But as he watched Draco reworking the formula for the candle instead of the jacks as the original object he had to acknowledge the Malfoy heir had an affinity for this type of magic. Maybe another opportunity to get revenge on the Weasley would present itself, something that featured Potions perhaps? He smiled, he had no desire to go out of his way to be mean the to prat. But it seemed that the youngest Weasley male would not see reason.

Draco worked and reworked the formula, occasionally flipping to other pages in the text, muttering to himself. Harry let him do his thing, completely out of his depth. He sat on one of the desks, letting his legs swing as his mind wandered.

Something about Professor Quirrell did not sit right with him. Even without Snape’s warning, the man set Harry’s teeth on edge. Not too mention the man’s classes gave him a ridiculous headache. He wondered for a while if he ought to tell someone. But who would even care? Snape maybe? Harry shook his head. The man was already giving up too much of his time. And why would he be bothered that Harry was getting headaches? Odds are the Potions Master would simply pack him off to the hospital wing. That was a thought, maybe Madam Poppy? The school nurse? He dismissed the idea as soon as it materialized in his head. 

The Dursley’s had taken him to a doctor, once. The school required it before they would admit him. The old physician had fussed and clucked over Harry, telling him he was far too peaky, too short, too everything. He’d told Vernon that Harry needed a trip to the optometrist and a good fattening up. For the length of the trip back Harry had been subjected to his uncle ranting about that money grubbing quack and a scolding for being too scrawny despite the fastidious care they’d taken of him. And if he couldn’t look more grateful for the food and roof over his head, he’d find himself locked in the closet until his eighteenth birthday. Vernon had throw a pair of glasses at him the next morning, and that had been the last time Harry had seen a doctor of any sort.

“Arachnifors!” Draco’s voice sliced through Harry’s increasingly morose thoughts and the dark haired boy snapped his head to the candle to see the results of Draco’s spell. The wick seemed to lengthen ever so slightly, but that was the extent of it. Draco cursed under his breath and glanced outside; Harry followed his gaze.

The moon had dipped low in the sky and was already setting behind the mountains. It would be breakfast soon. The two boys sighed in unison.

“Maybe we should-”

“No,” Draco shook his head. “I can do it.” He squared his shoulders, canting his head upwards with a determined set to his jaw. The soft moonlight on the blond hair causing him to look far more angelic than the current situation deserved. Ice blue eyes focused on the candle, he adjusted his grip on his wand, cleared his throat, and uttered the incantation again.

The candle wavered for a moment, the wax appearing to melt and run down the side onto the table. Then the rivers of wax grew joints, the body of the candle rounded and a pale yellow spider skittered across the table.

Confident in the success of their prank, they quickly rounded up the spider-jacks which had started looking distinctly more jack than spider. The yellow wax spider had run off to a dark corner and they agreed not to bother chasing it. Not if they wanted to make it back to the dorms before anyone else woke up.

Blaise had just started stirring when they slipped back in the dorms. Draco dove onto his bed and Harry stood, adjusting his tie as though he was just finishing getting dressed. As long as no one looked closely at their flushed, excited faces they were the perfect picture of two boys who had just woken up. Harry puttered around the bed, packing and unpacking his bag for class until Draco had finished putting on his uniform and the two boys hurried out of the Common Room to the Great Hall.

It was early, only about a third of the student body was sat eating. Draco and Harry carefully chose seats that would allow them an easy exit out of the Hall as well as an excellent view of where Ron habitually sat at the Gryffindor table. Harry was nervous. 

His entire life it had been carefully drilled into him to follow the Rules. And, that no matter what was done to him he should keep his head down and carry on... making as little noise as possible. But Blaise was his friend. As foreign a concept as friends were to the boy, he found he rather liked them. And it angered him deep inside when people attacked them for stupid prejudices like what House they were sorted into. So now, despite his nerves, in light of the teachers' apparent indifference to the wrong, Harry was determined to see that justice would be done.

Draco seemed largely unaffected as he heaped his plate full of french toast and eggs, with bacon and sausages, and dug in, washing it down with a large glass of pumpkin juice. Harry pushed some hash around his plate, unable to eat as he waited for Ron to make his appearance. 

Finally, as Draco polished off his third plate of food, the red-headed boy pushed his way into the Great Hall and slumped down into his customary seat. Thankfully, it seemed most of Slytherin had decided to sleep in and the space around the two boys was clear. Draco slid his wand out of his sleeve and held it under the table, pointing it up at the candles above Ron's head.

A few soft whispers in quick succession and several quick flashes of magic brushing past him, and Harry was grinning in delight as all of the candles at Ron's end of the table Transformed into pale yellow spiders. No longer held up by whatever magic kept the candles aloft, they began to rain down on the Gryffindor table. 

The few lucky Slytherins who had awoken and made it to breakfast in time to see Ron shriek in a high-pitched voice and scramble out of his chair before fainting in fright as he attempted to make a break for it out the doors of the Hall, were called upon again and again to recount the sight.

As Harry and Draco left the Hall, they caught the eyes of the Weasley twins who turned, hiding themselves from view of the Head Table, and raised their glasses in salute. Harry thought he saw Fred whisper kitchens? and he nodded.

Despite their sleepness night, both boys agreed it was worth another to celebrate their prank properly with the Weasley twins. The irony giving Harry a chuckle as he turned the corner and ran straight into a solid black form. He looked up into the dark eyes of Severus Snape.

"An interesting bit of magic boys, five points to Slytherin" he drawled quietly. No matter what Harry did he could not stop the blush that rose up the back of his neck and settled on the tops of his ears. "Detention, with me, after class. And ten points from Slytherin." Harry blinked, Snape never took points from his own House.

"But sir, we were only..." Draco began, but a long slender finger stopped him in his tracks.

Snape pushed the hair out of his eyes as he leaned in every so slightly and lowered his voice. "An additional five for standing up for a fellow student."

"Thank you sir!" Harry breathed a sigh of relief. 

"For what?" The tall figure straighted and adjusted his robes around him before he billowed down the hall.

Adrenaline from the prank and their run in with Snape kept them awake for the first two classes of the day. But by the time lunch rolled around both boys felt the affects of the sleepless night. They struggled to keep their eyes open, and praised Merlin as they slipped into the History of Magic classroom.

Professor Binns was the oldest teacher at Hogwarts. No one could exactly remember when he had begun, and no one dared to ask. One morning he had died, getting out of bed to teach his class, and his ghost had carried on without the body to weigh him down. He had a melodious voice that put all but the most studious student into a deep coma as he droned on about some goblin war, or troll uprising. Thankfully, his single-minded devotion to his work meant that unless someone stood in front of him, waving their arms and demanding attention, he completely ignored the students. The moment he sat down in his seat, Harry put his arms on his desk, buried into them, and promptly fell asleep. 

"You snore," Draco smirked as the dark-haired boy lifted his head and looked around the empty classroom with a wide yawn. "Got enough beauty rest?"

"Do not," Harry picked up his book bag, he hadn't even bothered with the pretense of pulling out parchment and a quill before his nap. "'Sides, not like Binns would notice anyway."

They made their way down to the dungeons. Snape ushered them into the Potions classroom without comment. Harry looked, expecting to see a large pile of caulrons needing scrubbing, or particularly nasty potions ingredients that needed dissecting. Instead, as he looked around the dark, quiet classroom, he saw nothing out of place.

"Well?" Snape broke the silence and looked down at the two expectant faces that had followed him as he sat down at his desk. "Don't you have homework to be doing?" His amused expression disappeared behind a curtain of long black hair as he returned to his reading.

"Yes sir, t-thank you sir!" They hustled to their usual seats and began pulling out texts and parchments. Harry kept glancing up at the quiet figure at the front of the room, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But when Snape made no move to assign them additional tasks, he dipped his quill into the ink well and began the foot and a half Transfiguration essay McGonnagall had assigned them that morning.

The trio worked in silence for nearly two hours before Snape cleared his throat, "I will see you at dinner." He rose and made his way to the door and paused before he turned down the hall. His eyes regarding them intently. "It would not do for you, nor your fellow Slytherins, to expect this sort of dentention from me again."

As Snape walked down the hall he hoped that they had understood. Their prank, however intelligent and even perhaps justified, was still against the spirit of Hogwart's rules. But in light of the other professor's indifference he sympathized with their desire to take matters into their own hands. It was a predicament Slytherins often found themselves in. And one he could do little to ease, except equalize the docked points, and provide a farce of a detention. It wasn't much, but it was something.


	16. The One Where Harry is Worried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Wooo! I know it's been slow to update, but I've got the next week to write up the ending of this book, and I'm fairly optimistic that it will happen.
> 
> Hopefully people are still enjoying it. I'm having a lot of fun writing. Even if the chapters are short. I never wanted to spend too much time in the first few books, mostly just get the groundwork in for some fun later on.
> 
> As always, comments make my heart sing!

Harry decided to skip dinner in favor of a nap. A late night excursion to the kitchens with Fred and George likely meant some sort of food. The house elves were happy to provide whatever they craved. He barely managed to get the curtains drawn before he fell asleep, fully clothed, on top of the bedcovers. 

By the time Draco shook him awake Blaise and Nott were sound asleep. He quickly changed into more casual clothes and dug his Invisibility Cloak out from the bottom of his trunk.

They moved quickly, each having grown increasingly familiar with the other boy's movements, the layout of the castle, and the sound of Filch or Mrs. Norris' footsteps. They were rounding the corner to the hall that contained the pear tapestry when Peeves came bounding up to them. He stopped, his dark eyes peering straight at them. 

"Sneaky, sneaky. I can't see you but I know you're there." His singsong voice ran through the hall, echoing clearly in the otherwise quiet castle. 

Harry and Draco froze and looked at each other with wide eyes. What are we going to do? mouthed Draco. 

"The Bloody Baron's business is his own," intoned Harry, doing his best to impersonate the dark, foreboding tones of the Slytherin House ghost. It worked. Peeve's wide grin disappeared and the poltergeist bowed as he floated away. Not daring to turn his back to the "Bloody Baron".

Harry clamped his hand over his mouth, barely able to contain his laughter. They hurried down the hall as fast as they dared and Harry reached out and tickled the pear, pulling the cloak off as they entered the kitchen. Despite the late hour, elves were bustling about and the room smelt like freshly baked bread. Harry's stomach rumbled. As if on cue Pearlie appeared, "Masters Harry and Draco!" she bowed and ushered them over to the table by the fire where Fred and George were already seated. Four Butterbeers, two more than half empty, flanked a large ceramic toureen and a basket of rolls.

"Took you two long enough!" Fred grinned as Draco sat next to him. 

"Apparently the Boy Who Lived is also the Boy Who Slept," Draco leaned forward and took a long pull of the warm, buttery drink.

Fred laughed and lifted off the lid, the smell enough to set Harry's stomach off again.

"Also the Boy Who Hungered!" George snickered.

"And the Boy Who Was a Ghost," Draco grinned. Fred and George looked at him curiously and Draco told the tale while they began to dish up the food. After the bowls had been filled with a beef stew, rolls split and buttered, Fred and George raised their mugs in salute to the younger two.

"A toast! To our Slytherin brothers," Fred began with an overly solemn and important tone, completely spoilt by the Cheshire Cat grin on George's face as he interupted.

"Who like a hell of a lot more than that freckled git who is."

"George!" Fred admonished, "You're spoiling the moment. You're right, but you're spoiling the moment!"

Chastized, but still sporting a large grin, George raised his glass and nodded for Fred to continue.

"We had started to wonder,"

"If you were ever going to capitalize on the information we'd given you."

"But..."it was well worth the wait!"

The twins grinned and clinked their glasses with Draco and Harry, "Mischief managed!"

"Does he know it was us?" Harry dug into his food, trying to ignore the twinge of regret.

"Get that look off your face Mister Harry Potter," somehow Fred managed to look menacing as he brandished his spoon. "Don't you go feeling bad for Ickle Ronnie-kins."

"Who's feeling bad for that prat?" George looked scandalized. An impressive feat considering the amount of roll he had stuffed into his mouth secounds prior to speaking. It sounded more like Hoomph fee baph da-at but Fred seemed to have no problem understanding his twin.

"Harry here." He turned back to look at the younger boy who's face had taken on a decidedly sheepish expression. "Having a few regrets for your first prank?" When he nodded, Fred continued. "Don't, he's not permanently hurt, which is more consideration than he seems to be giving other people. He's embarrassed, it'll pass. And maybe, he'll have learned a lesson or two."

Draco nodded in agreement.

"We're ashamed to be related. But Mum insisted he wasn't adopted when we asked."

"And then grounded us for nearly a year for the cheek."

"Ahh Mum," they sighed in unison.

"The Sorting Hat remembered her," Fred mused as he nursed the last of his butterbeer. "It really wanted to put us in Slytherin."

"You two would have made incredible Slytherins," Draco interjected.

"The Hat thought so too. Took it a good deal of convincing to put us in Gryffindor. Wasn't until I said Mum would tear it into pieces for nappies that it relented."

"She'd have done it too. Mum can be downright vengeful when she puts her mind to it."

"She does love you though."

Fred turned at the sound of Draco's slightly bitter voice. The younger boy stared into the fire resolutely avoiding anyone's gaze. 

"If only she could remember which one was which."

The foursome dissolved into giggles, Fred's wistful tone breaking the awkward energy that had begun to develop. They managed to recover just as the house-elves came bearing a large crumble. The relived that morning's breakfast over and over until Fred slumped over in his chair, sound asleep. Draco roused him and hustled them all out of the kitchens and off to bed.

"They really would have made excellent Slytherins," Draco mumbled before he drifted off to sleep.

For Harry, the rest days passed in a blur. Homework and Quidditch practice took nearly every free moment. One morning, as he stumbled into the Great Hall for breakfast, he stopped dead in his tracks, it looked as though Cupid had exploded.

The candles had been charmed to a light pink, and small red hearts fell from the sky, bursting into little puffs of glitter as soon as they touched anything. But it was the sight of Peeves, wearing a diaper with a bow slung across his bare chest, serenading an irate Professor Snape that sent Harry and Draco into fits of laughter. They doubled over laughing as they walked over to the Slytherin table.

"Fifty knuts says Snape actully explodes" Terrance Higgs whispered loudly.

A sixth year Harry had never met shook her head, "He's got more self-control for that. A galleon says that Peeves mysteriously vanishes and is never heard from again."

"Two galleons says Snape uses an Unforgiveable," Flint grunted.

They betting continued as Peeves began to dance on the table in front of Snape. The few glances Harry got of the Potions Master through the gyration of the poltergeist's hips suggested that Flint may perhaps be onto something. Finally, Professor Snape slammed his fist onto the table and stood. He threw a withering glare to the Headmaster, who hid behid his goblet -which had been charmed to match the candles- and stormed out of the Hall.

"Bloody hell, it's Valentine's Day!"

Several confused and amused faces turned to Harry.

"Don't tell me you had a Valentine you forgot to get something for," Gemma teased. "Perhaps you could convince Peeves to serenade her!"

Harry shook his head, looking pale. "No," he breathed, "It's Valentine's Day." At everyone's confused expression he continued. "Next Saturday is the match." Most of the older students rolled their eyes and returned to their breakfast, bickering over whose bets were owned to who. Gemma reached over and patted Harry's hand.

"You'll be fine. Snape's refereeing, he's not going to let anything happen to you."

Only slightly mollified he speared a stack of pink pancakes and dug in.

He managed to put it out of his mind until the night before the game. Visions of a giant turban strangling him as he tried desperately to catch the Snitch before his scar exploded kept him awake. Knees pressed to his chest with his arms wrapped around, he huddled against the headboard shivering.

His thoughts drifted to the Dursley's. Life with them had been simple, quiet, and extraordinarily bland. Each day would blend almost meaninglessly into the next, punctuated only by Vernon or Dudley's tantrums. The former being loud and the latter being violent. Once he'd figured out the golden rule: Don't Ask Questions and mastered the art of existing without making noise it was a simple routine. Sleep, do chores, sneak food when he could, and be invisible. 

Still, even with essays measured in feet, staircases that seemed to change deliberately to get you as turned around as was possible, professors jinxing his broom and nearly killing him, an evil wizard who very nearly did kill him, Harry knew he wouldn't change this new world of magic for anything. Bolstered by the thought he slid down under the covers and fell fast asleep.

"Hey Harry, no pressure or anything... but if you fall off your broom, we'll lose to Hufflepuff, and I'm sorry mate, but there's just no living that down. Bacon?" Gemma held out the platter to him as he sat down, his face white.

"Gemma!" Pansy frowned at the prefect. "That is not helpful! You should eat something though Harry," she added as he pushed away the plate.

"Might not be helpful exactly, but she's not wrong either." Draco slid onto the bench beside Harry. "If Slytherin loses to Hufflepuff, odds are we're going to lose the House Cup. Plus... Hufflepuff!" 

Harry nodded in agreement as he tore off the corner of the toast Pansy had attempted to shove down his throat. "I know, I know." They didn't seem to hear him, or notice him much, as they discussed the best way to cheer Harry and bolster his confidence in light of almost certain death by falling from his broomstick.

After an acceptable amount of time and he destroyed the food on his plate enough to convince Pansy that he had consumed some, he left the Great Hall. He tried to shrug off their attempts to join him, saying he was headed straight down to the locker rooms to change, but Draco insisted on accompanying him anyway. They had just rounded the corner when two long arms reached out and hauled them bodily into an alcove. Harry managed to draw his wand and desperately tried to remember any of the hexes the sixth and seventh years taught him.

"Loco-" he started to cast, and then a large hand closed over his mouth. His eyes wide he looked over to see Draco struggling against a tall form. A hand firmly pressed to his mouth, an arm across his body, pinning him into place. It was too dark to see who it was. 

He felt his attacker shift, breath hot on his neck, "Stop struggling you wanker!" Harry froze.


	17. The One Where It All Goes Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... it's time we started pushing this book towards the real meat of the story, and then started wrapping it up. I had a "eureka!" moment as I was writing this chapter, and I hope that the outline I have will let me write out the remaining chapters quickly so we can move on to book two!

Harry felt a rumbling against his back, and then he heard George's voice. "Little jumpy there Harry?" The hands holding him in place eased up and he spun to see the Weasley twin's freckled face practically split in two as he grinned. Draco lurched forward and Fred followed close behind.

"We wanted a bit of a word, but didn't think your housemates would appreciate us waltzing up to the table before the big match."

"Probaby accuse of us of trying to hex you."

At the mention of hexing Harry's face paled. George looked at him sympathetically and patted the small boy on the shoulder.

"That's why we're here. We know Snape's going to be keeping an eye on you, but he's going to have to watch the game too. So he can blatantly ignore the Slytherin's dirty rotten cheating." Fred grinned uprepentantly as Draco's elbow buried itself in his ribs. He tousled his long blond hair affectionately, ignoring the indignant sputtering.

"The point is," George raised his voice just slightly, glancing at the empty hallway. "We wanted to say good luck. And, that we'll both be there, wands ready."

Harry blinked back tears. So far, the friendship with the Weasley twins had been confined to clandestine nighttime kitchen raids. The difference in ages, and the feud between their Houses had kept them from ever being proper mates. This daylight show of comraderie and support, even if it was in a darkened alcove off a side corridor, was important. It was strange. In part, he knew that most of his house was friends with him because either he was the Boy Who Lived, or merely because he was a fellow Slytherin and that meant something to them. At a loss for what to say to properly express his appreciation, Harry reached out his arms and hauled the two tall figures over for a tight hug. Draco, having gotten caught in the middle, struggled to free himself for a brief moment and then gave in to the group hug. The twins took the show of affectionate in stride, and after returning the hug stepped back.

"We should be heading to the stands, before the snakes kick you off the team for consorting with lions." They sauntered down the hall, snatches of the Hogwarts fight song with a new set of questionable lyrics floating back to Harry and Draco. The two Slytherins giggled, waiting a few moments, and then set off to the locker room.

The twins' detainment meant that although Harry had left breakfast before the rest of the team, most of them were already waiting. Flint seemed relieved when Harry walked in. No doubt he'd been wondering if Harry had changed his mind and had gone off and hidden himself in some long forgotten part of the castle. The look on his face was likely as close as he'd ever get to admitting that he was glad to have Harry on the team.

Gemma clasped him on the shoulder as he emerged from the change room, nervously tugging on the different buckles holding his protective gear on. "Alright there Harry?" Her voice was low, meant for Harry's ears only. Swallowing the lump in his throat Harry nodded,

"Yeah, yeah I think so. I just want it over quickly."

She lifted up the sleeve of her Quidditch robes. Strapped to her forearm was her wand. She nodded meaningfully at Terrence who lifted his sleeve, revealing the same, and then looked down at Harry, pressing a small bundle of leather in his hands. "Wands are technically allowed on the pitch during a match. Too much temptation to cheat. But after what happened last time, we're not taking chances. Keep yours on you, use it if you have to." She shifted her body, blocking Harry from view of the rest of the team and waited while he fastened the leather holster onto his arm and slid his wand in. "Good to go?" At his nod she walked across the room, grabbed her broom, and moved into place with the others, ready to enter the pitch as a team.

Harry wrapped his fingers around his arm, feeling the wand, his eyes darting from Gemma to Terrence. A warm feeling in the pit of his stomach began to edge out the nervous rock that had taken up residence there since he'd woken up. He had friends, real friends. Who cared about him. Not how the Dursley's did, begrudgingly and with great complaining and attempts to make Harry feel guilty that they'd goe so far out of their way to provide him with just barely what he needed to survive. No, these people did so because... they liked him. Even Snape, giving up his evenings to ensure that Harry was safe at practice. Or refereeing the match despite what Harry was sure were rather fearsome oppositions and accusations of favoritism. He strode out onto the pitch, the cheers muted as he focused on that warm happy feeling inside of him.

This game needed to be over quickly. Less time for someone to mess with him, or his broomstick for starters. And he knew that regardless of how clean they played, Flint had warned them before the match not to make Snape have to give them any penalties, people were still going to accuse Snape of favoring them, and that they only won by cheating. If he caught the Snitch before too much of the game had passed, it would go a long way to silencing the rumors.

Despite the nasty weather of the previous week, the morning of the match had dawned bright and clear. The sun bouncing off the water on the leaves was blinding and he squinted as they mounted their brooms, pushing off from the damp grass. Snape stood center field, the Quidditch trunk at his feet. He waited until both teams had taken to their brooms and then released the Snitch and Bludgers in quick succession. After a short pause, he tossed the Quaffle into the air, a short blast on the whistle signalling the start of the match.

As he flew around the pitch, gaze everywhere, he felt more eyes on him than normal. Hyper-alert, he couldn't fail to notice that Snape managed to position himself where he could watch the game, and his House's Seeker. The tall man was surprising good on a broomstick; Harry wondered if he'd played when he was at school. Cursing himself for getting distracted by an unimportant train of thought, Harry pulled his Nimbus 2000 around in a tight loop over the Slytherin goal hoops. Then, he saw it.

A quick glance at the Hufflepuff Seeker revealed that he hadn't yet noticed the small golden Snitch, hovering just above the Gryffindor section of the stands. He flattened himself along the pole and banked, flying straight towards the glinting ball. In the back of his mind he was vaguely aware of Fred and George's shocked expression as he barrelled towards them.

"Harry Potter has spotted the Snitch!" Lee Jordan's voice boomed out over the field. The Hufflepuff chaser turned and desperately tried to give chase, but even without a vastly superior broom, Harry's headstart was enough to ensure the other Seeker would never catch up.

He stopped almost inches from George's face and lifted his arm triumphantly. Caught between his fingers, struggling to be released, was the Snitch.

"A with a record breaking five minutes to catch the Snitch, Harry Potter wins the match for Slytherin!"

The twins flashed him a subtle thumbs up as he turned to rejoin the team. He caught a glimpse of Snape and the older man's thin lips curled into a ghost of a smile before he landed his broom and strode off the field.

Harry's feet had barely touched the ground when Terrence hoisted him up on his shoulders with a grin. The Slytherin stands were emptying onto the pitch - cheering and hollering. Even after his spectacular dive the first game, there had apparently been more than one member of his house who doubted his position on the team. It was hard to blame them. Afterall, he hadn't exactly caught the Snitch on his first match. Many considered pure luck that he'd swallowed the Snitch instead of having his body splattered onto the bottom of the Quidditch pitch. Now however, it seemed as though he was being inducted properly.

The Common Room was packed. The chairs had been pushed back along the walls, and the end tables had been shoved together in the middle of the room. They were groaning under the weight of trays of sandwiches, pastries, puddings, custards, pies, and Draco Malfoy was stood near them, grinning as he held court. Several older students demanded to know how he'd managed to sneak into the kitchens, but he refused to reveal the secret. Harry didn't begrudge his friend a bit of the spotlight, and blushed scarlet when someone noticed he'd entered the room and called for everyone to cheer.

He waved them off, taking a Butterbeer that Gemma pressed into his hand and wove his way through the celebrating students to a particularly comfortable, over-stuffed chair under one of the windows.

The windows in the Slytherin Common Room were unique, at least as far as he understood. Because of the unique location in the dungeons of the Castle, the dormitory was completely underground and butted up against the Great Lake. The afternoon light filtered through the murky water, casting strange shadows across the fabric. He watched as the Giant Squid terrorized a school of fish.

Before long Draco joined him, carrying a chess board and two cases of pieces. "Fancy a match?" Harry thought about how much homework he had and groaned. But, he reasoned, he'd just set a record for the fastest capture of the Snitch in Hogwart's Quidditch history. That deserved at the very least a Saturday off. He nodded and pushed the chair back from the window a little to make room for the end table and chair that Draco was charming over.

He was getting better, he thought, as he deftly moved his pieces around the board. His set was definitely started to trust him more, and took great relish in smashing Draco's elegant pieces of smithereens. Pansy came over and perched on the arm rest of his chair, leaning comfortably against him as she watched.

"It's been a while since we've talked about the Sorceror's Stone," she spoke in quiet tones, easily covered by the sound of the continued partying.

Harry swore under his breath as Draco's Knight took his last Bishop and then looked at Pansy, buying himself time to consider his next move. "Had any ideas?"

"A few, they're all awful though."

"A teacher tried to kill Harry, someone has a three-headed dog in the castle, and there's a magical stone that lets you live forever... I'd be shocked if there was a not-awful idea. Harry, it's your move."

Harry frowned, at Pansy and then at the chessboard. One of his Pawns seemed to be trying to catch his eye, so he looked and then grinned. If he played right he could have Draco in checkmate in four moves. He gently nudged the Pawn forward, putting the Rook on the defensive. He smiled for a moment and then sighed, "Let's hear it Pansy."

She glanced around to make sure that no one was listening and then leaned forward slightly. "Look, I know he's our head of house and all. But, what if it's Snape trying to get the Stone?"

"No way!" Harry shouted, ducking his head as a few students looked over. He waited until hey turned away and then repeated in a much quieter voice, "No way Pansy. You said awful, but that's completely ridiculous." He looked at Draco for support and blinked when he saw the thoughtful look on Draco's face. "Draco, come on, you can't be considering it."

Draco set down the piece he'd been about to place and leaned back in his chair, staring out at the lake for a moment gathering his thoughts. "Harry, you weren't raised with wizards, you haven't really heard the stories about our parents, about Snape." His voice took on a sad tone as he continued, "My parents, mostly mum, agreed with You-Know-Who. Fought with him, right? I told you about that?" They nodded. Draco took a deep breath and lifted pale grey eyes to meet green ones. "Snape's been a friend of my mum's forever

There was a long moment of silence before Harry suddenly pushed away from the chess set, spilling the pieces onto Draco's lap. "No," he said coldly before storming off. He wove through the crowded Common Room and up to his dorm. After a moment he reappeared briefly, shooting an angry look towards Pansy and Draco, and disappeared through the passage into the castle.

He considered going straight to Snape's office and demanding the truth. But for all the older man had been kind to him, he wasn't sure how he'd react to being accused of serving the most evil wizard in recent memory. No, Harry needed to calm down before he did anything. He could feel his magic pulsing, wild magic they called it. The explaination for why Petunia's attempts to chop Harry's hair never lasted more than a night, or glass to snake enclosures at the zoo suddenly disappearing.

Raw, unrestrained power. Dangerous. 

He took several deep calming breaths, running his Invisibility Cloak through his fingers. His feet carried him to the library and he nodded. This would do. Slipping between the stacks, he picked up a few books that interested him and moved through the maze of bookcases to a quiet, neglected corner. 

With the books nestled on his lap he carefully pulled the cloak around him, making sure no part of him was visible, and leaned back against the wall. "Lumos," he whispered and cracked open the book on the top of the pile.

Madam Pince came through, checking the stacks for students that were flirting with the curfew limit, and then waved her wand, extinguishing all the lights. Harry held his breath, would the wandlight be visible through the silvery fabric of the cloak? He let it out slowly as he heard her turn the key in the lock. 

He read most of the night until exhaustion claimed him and he slumped over sound asleep. He didn't stir until one of the school owls landed on top of his head, hooting reproachfully. Moving quickly and hoping that Madam Pince did not choose that moment to enter the library, he pulled off the note that had been hastily tied to its leg.

Where are you?

He recognized Draco's scrawl and sighed. His friends were worried, but he wasn't ready to deal with them until he had some answers. He didn't want to talk about it, debate the merits of Pansy's suggestion. All he wanted was the truth and there was only one person who could give it to him. He cast a Tempus charm and got to his feet. Snape should be finishing breakfast and heading to his office to wait for Harry.

Harry kept the cloak on, not wanting to run into anyone as he made his way back down to the dungeons to Professor Snape's office. He rapped on the door, crossing his fingers that the older man was already inside. He didn't fancy waiting here in the hallway where someone might bump into him and start investigating. A quiet voice beckoned him in and he breathed a sigh of relief before pushing open the door, tugging the cloak off at the same time.

Using the excuse of closing the door to keep his face hidden from him, he took a deep steadying breath and then turned to face Snape. 

"Were you a Death Eater?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuugh, I feel the need to apologize in advance. In fair warning, I -did- tag this fic "angst" and there's been precious little so far. Time we got to it! I have another full week of camping, so if the stars align and the people next to me keep being irritatingly loud til all hours of the night keeping me awake. SERIOUSLY PEOPLE, 10:30pm is not the time to be shouting nonsense at a person out on the lake in a kayak. MANNERS!
> 
> Sorry, little personal rant there in which I reveal myself to be an anti-social hermit lol. ANYWAY...
> 
> The goal is to have a chapter per day up at least, until I finally write "The End" for Book the First. Again, apologies for any mistakes in the writing, it's really hard to edit on such a tiny screen! (but I still love you netbook baby <3)


	18. The One Where Snape Answers the Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this would have been posted a LOT earlier, but my computer thought it'd be fun to re-write my doc with a completely blank page. I got to spend my morning re-writing the last chapter as best as I could remember.

The question hung thick in the air between them. He took a deep breath and set the book he'd been reading down on the table. His long fingers traced the lettering embossed on the cover as he considered the best approach to take.

"Sit down Harry, please." He waved his wand, summoning one of the chairs to sit opposite his desk. It took every bit of his training to keep his face neutral. He studied the boy, still small although decidedly less peakish than he had been at the start of term. It had been quite some time since Severus had compared the boy to his father, but now... green eyes burning with rage, accusation all over his young features, the resemblance was - disturbing. Even the eyes, so like his mother's.

For a moment, he was no longer the Potions Master, towering over terrified students. He was sixteen again, and those green eyes that once belonged to the dearest friend he'd ever had, were full of anger and disgust. He felt her rejection in his gut, the realization that he'd made a choice he would not be able to come back from.

But then, his vision cleared, the green eyes were not set into a face spattered with light freckles, or vivid red hair. Instead, an unruly mop of black hair fell over a pale forehead, marred by a jagged scar. He was not his father, nor his mother. For all he had been expecting James' child to have to same arrogant swagger, moving through the school as if nothing and no one could stand in his way. No, Harry was his own person. And although he'd been trying very much to treat the child as such, it was not until this moment that it was thrust into crystal clarity. A child who was growing angrier by the moment, he would need to answer.

Severus decided to do something he rarely did. He decided that after everything, he owed the boy that much. Severus Snape told the complete truth, without twisting or manipulating it at all.

"I was."

He was impressed with that way that Harry managed to contain his rage. It had taken most people he knew far longer to suppress the desire to hit someone. Merlin knows he still struggled with it himself on occasion.

Finally, Harry spoke. "I won't be needing extra Potions lessons, sir." He spun on his heel, throwing the door open and disappeared down the hall.

Severus opened his mouth to call after him, and then closed it, slumping back in his chair. He'd known at some point Harry would learn about his past. What surprised him was how much Harry's disgust bothered him. It had been quite some time since he'd encountered someone who didn't know that he had been a Death Eater. He closed his hand over the Mark, always covered by his sleeve. 

He wondered who had told him. Not that it mattered, it was only a matter of time before it would have come out. Harry's dislike of him didn't change much, although if he was honest he would miss the tutoring sessions. He had an apt mind for Potions, something he'd been hoping to cultivate. But either way, he was going to look out for the boy. If he'd been powerful enough to stop the Dark Lord when he was barely a year old, there was little doubt in his mind that he was the first target for anyone who aspired to take the Dark Lord's place.

Right now, that fool Quirrell was high on his list. Despite his stuttering, insecure appearance, he'd proven strong enough to withstand Severus' demands to know why he'd gone after Harry. Even before the Dark Lord had become Voldemort, he carried about himself a certain air. Something that Quirrell most certainly did not. 

But there was no denying that he'd attempted to kill Harry, or that he had been lurking about in the third corridor trying to puzzle out the mystery that was Fluffy. At that he had to roll his eyes. Only a giant oaf like Hagrid would name a cerberus 'Fluffy'. But the giant three-headed dog was doing its job, at least for now. 

Severus had taken the extra precaution of charming the door, attuning it to Quirrell's magical signature. If that pathetic excuse for a Dark Arts professor passed through his wards, wherever he was he would hear a soft chiming in his ear. It was the best he could do for now. That, and trust Dumbledore. The thought caused his stomach to turn. 

Albus Dumbledore was a wise, and intelligent man. That was the problem. In his wisdom he felt it his duty to order the world in the way he thought best. For the most part, it turned out well. But it still grated. Severus had spent many years serving a man who thought to reorder the world as he saw fit. When he'd realized the error of his ways, the old wizard had attempted to recruit him to his army of devout followers.

That had not gone over well. It was only the wealth of information that he'd been able to divulge which kept him from Azkhaban and allowed him an uneasy truce with the Headmaster. 

That was fine with him, he had no desire to immediately replace one master with another, and rather preferred his independence. 

The morose streams of thought had followed him through the day. He skipped lunch, and successfully avoided people until dinner time. His eyes flicked to the Slytherin table, searching for the mop of black hair, and found him flanked by the Malfoy boy and Miss Parkinson. Something about the way the two sat, not possessively... they were protecting Harry. From him? The idea turned his stomach. While he cultivated a healthy dose of fear amongst his students, he did not relish the thought that any of his House thought they needed protection from him.

He dropped into his chair and reached for the goblet, pouring himself a glass of red.

"Difficult day Severus? We missed you at lunch." Albus glanced down the table, his blue eyes twinkling over the tops of his half-moon glasses as if he knew far more than he should. Quirrell, who had shrunk away from Severus when he sat down, edged his chair a little further away.

"Not at all Headmaster, I was caught up in some research and could not tear myself away."

Albus hummed as if he did not quite believe him, but returned to his conversation with Minerva. Severus let himself relax just slightly and filled his plate. No one bothered him for the rest of the meal.

Over the next weeks he could feel Potter and his friends keeping an eye on him. They watched him closely at meal times, and one of them nearly always seemed to be just around the corner. It was blatantly obvious and entirely lacking in subtly. That fact alone rankled far more than the fact that they apparently believed he was up to something. They were Slytherins, but they way they were carrying on, one could easily mistake them for Gryffindors. He shuddered, somehow, even without direct tutoring, he would have to find a way to educate Harry, and his friends.

Perhaps they thought he was after the Sorcerer's Stone? At one time he would not have hesitated. He would have reached out and taken hold of any power or advantage that came his way. Even now he had to admit, there was a part of him that wanted to try and beat the layers of protection Albus had put around it, claim the stone for himself. He wouldn't. Self-control was a trait that Severus prided himself on. So long as Quirrell kept his distance from the stone, so would he.

As winter faded into spring, the tension in the air around the castle was palpable. The change in the season signalled to the upper years that OWLs and NEWTs were fast approaching. Even the more studious of the lower years had begun to revise for their final exams. Granger, a young first-year Gryffindor had worked herself into a tizzy. Severus took particular pleasure in the black market trade of memory enhancers that exploded. Anyone who had paid attention in his classes over the years was in no danger of being taken in. But he enjoyed busting the clandestine transactions and docking points from both the sellers and the buyers.

One change he took note of with growing concern, was how gaunt and pale Quirrell appeared. It was not that he cared about the Dark Arts professor's health. But in his experience, such a marked change in appearance meant desperation. And desperation was one of the most dangerous forces on the planet.

The amount of review work he was able to assign his Potions students meant that he had additional free time with which to follow Quirrell. In addition, his Sunday afternoons remained free. He'd hoped that Harry would have approached him by now. Perhaps with more questions, or a willingness to listen to his reasonings. But, Severus was forced to admit, in this Harry seemed more like his parents than previously thought. It sent a familiar pang of regret through him, but years of wisdom had taught him that if someone was not willing to listen and understand no amount of speech would change their minds.

He pushed it from his mind, and forced his concentration back to the present. Hagrid was late for breakfast, and was just now leaning over to Albus and explaining in what he supposed passed as a whisper for the giant.

"Sumthin's kill'n em. Thas the second one this week."

Severus lowered his fork and concentrated on eavesdropping.

"And the centaurs?"

"Ina righ' tizzy. It's rilin' em up. I dun know wha sor' of creature would kill a uni-"

"Yes, thank you Hagrid," Albus cut him off quickly. The half-giant grunted and moved down the table. 

Severus blinked. Unicorns? There wasn't anything else he could imagine that the Gameskeeper had been about to say. But, killing a unicorn? Of all the magical creatures in the world, the unicorn was one of the most powerful. Unicorn hair and horn were highly sought after potions ingredients, but rare. Because one did not end the life of a unicorn without taking on a curse. A half-life was said to be the fate of anyone who killed the creature.

All day he considered who would risk such a thing. It was connected, the deaths of the unicorns and Quirrell's pursuit of the Stone. But, other than looking slightly pale and a little thin, he could not comprehend a reason for the man to risk the unicorn curse. Even still, he did not look like a man condemned to a half-life.

He growled, causing several of the third year students that were seated at the front of the class brewing a Forgetfulness Draught to pale and flinch away. The sight caused him to smirk, which seemed to unnerve the students even more. He glowered at them and returned to his musings. 

A dark though began growing in his mind. It gnawed at him for the rest of the day and through dinner. He watched Quirrell out of the corner of his eye, surely not. Surely not, he insisted to himself. Instead he began composing lists of alternate theories in his mind.

As the candles on his desk melted down to practically nothing, Severus sighed. His face tight and expression almost pained. Nothing else fit, not as perfectly. Quirrell was not after the Stone for himself. Some part of the Dark Lord had survived, and Quirrell was attempting to bring him back. He stood, pulling his robes around him. As much as it irked him to do so, he would have to go to Professor Dumbledore.

Severus stopped dead in his tracks as two things happened at once. A memory of an owl, landing in front of Albus at the end of dinner - summoning him to the Ministry of Magic. And a soft chiming in his ear alerting him that his wards on the room in the third floor corridor had been breached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That wasn't a cliffhanger, exactly?
> 
> Definitely getting close to the tail end of this book. I'm thinking two to three more chapters :D


	19. The One Where Exams Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day!
> 
> Not super long, but hopefully you enjoy :D

Harry avoided Snape as much as possible. A difficult task when one is also simultaneously spying on the person. Thankfully, he was not an overly involved Head of House, and as long as Harry, Draco and Pansy stayed out of trouble Potions class was the only time they were in close proximity to him.

He was not entirely convinced that Snape was the one after the Stone. As he struggled over a complicated list of potions, he found himself missing the weekly tutoring session. But he dismissed the thought just as quickly. The man was a Death Eater, sworn to serve the evil wizard who had killed Harry's parents, and tried to kill him. That was something he just could not wrap his mind around.

More than once he'd considered storming up to Dumbledore and demanding an answer as to how he could expect him to learn from a Death Eater. And not just him, Harry was certain the school was full of students whose lives had been affected by the actions of Voldemort and his followers. Did he even know of his Potion Master's dark past? But then he would lift his eyes to the Head Table where Dumbledore sat. The bright blue eyes seeming to watch everything at once, knowing far more than was right for any person to know. Aye, Dumbledore knew, and it would seem - just like with the troll in the dungeons - he did not care. No, Harry knew there would be no use confronting him, and he had no desire to tangle himself with the man any further than was absolutely necessary. He'd caught those eyes, studying him over half-moon glasses with an almost predatory, expectant look. It did not sit right.

It was not a stretch for Harry to dismiss the adults in his life as not caring for his best interests. But that suited him fine. Adult aid was not something he counted on, and so when he found himself without it he simply carried on.

For his part Draco seemed much the same way. He didn't speak of his parents hardly at all. On occasion he would mention his father. But any mention of the elder Malfoys seemed to draw harsh stares from the older students nearby and so for the most part Draco let it be.

Most afternoons would find them squirrelled away in the library, reviewing for their exams. Draco and Pansy had grown up with magic their entire life, and while the subjects were new for them, the general concepts and principles were almost second nature. Harry on the other hand, felt somewhat overwhelmed with the new information, and rather than leave it until the last minute had begun to study well in advance of the finals. Every spare moment that was not spent practicing wand movements, or listing the twelve uses for dragon's blood in potions, was spent trailing either Quirrell or Snape.

The teachers, not seeming to care that they had already taught enough information to fill the heads of even the most devoted student, began to pile on a truly alarming amount of homework. As the finals loomed ever nearer, they were forced to give up following both Snape and Quirrell and focus instead on their revision. Harry still watched the two professors at meal-times, noticing that Snape seemed to be withdrawing ever inward.

Meanwhile Quirrell looked as though he was going mad. Always slender, he looked gaunt now, his skin stretched tight over his bones. Harry had heard some of the older students talking about how he'd been walking the halls, arguing with himself. 

But, he couldn't focus on that. Whatever was going to happen, a part of his mind admitted,a it was absurd that a group of First Years would be the ones to prevent it. The thought made him chuckle, which in turn made him wince, his hand going to his scar. For the last week he'd had an almost constant headache, amplified by the smell of garlic in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Thankfully, Quirrell was bidding them a good day and dismissing them.

"Did you see how jumpy he looked?" Draco slung his book bag over his shoulder and Pansy nodded.

Harry shook his head and groaned at the movement.

"Again?" Pansy frowned. "Maybe you should think about going to see Madam Pompfrey." It wasn't the first time she'd suggested it. At first Harry was able to hide the aching in his head from his friends, but it'd grown worse, especially after class in that garlic-infested hell hole. "I'm sure she has a calming draught, or a pain potion she can give you. Help you sleep better."

Harry cast a muderous look at Draco. He'd not told either of them that he'd been having nightmares.

"What? You've been thrashing around, moaning in your sleep." Draco looked unrepentant as he followed them to the Common Room. If they hurried they could beat the seventh years back and claim the comfortable chairs by the fire. 

Luck was on their side, they were just settling into the plush green chairs when a frazzled group of older students burst in. Pansy gave them her most charming smile, and after sending the group of first years a glare, they made their way back out - towards the library most likely -she reached into her bag and pulled out a set of flash cards.

"Well, if you aren't going to go to the Hospital Wing, then we're going to study." Draco and Harry groaned in unison, but they also sat up straighter. "Alright, Devil's Snare... what do you do?"

"Sunlight!" Harry answered, at the same time Draco said,

"Relax!"

"Both right," Pansy beamed at them. "Although if you ask me sunlight seems a lot more logical. I'm not sure I could relax if a giant plant was trying to strangle me." The boys nodded in agreement and she pulled out the next card.

They studied well into the night. Taking turns quizzing each other on the subjects they knew best. Finally, when the responses to the questions were more mumbled yawns than words, they dragged themselves off to their respective rooms. 

The next week exams began and the temperature rose to sweltering heights. They took their exams in a large room with only small shafts for windows. Harry wondered how they expected anyone to concentrate in the heat. He handed in his Transfiguration essay and returned the new anti-cheating quill they'd been given at the start of the exam block. Thankfully, the practicals were done in the classroom, and individually.

As he watched the pineapple dance across Professor Flitwick's desk he tipped his head. He wasn't sure the jig was lively enough for full marks. The small professor grinned at him and cast Finite Incantatem on the fruit before he dismissed Harry and called the next student in.

McGonnagall's exam was a bit more difficult. Transfiguration was not his favorite subject, and although Draco had spent many nights trying to explain the finer points of the magical theory behind it, Harry did not think his mouse-turned-snuffbox was sufficient for a decent grade. The surface still held a fine, fur-like texture, and one got the distinct impression that the box was skittish and would much prefer to hide itself away in a dark corner rather than sit on the desk. Still, he faired better than the Weasley, which gave him no end of pleasure. 

Fred and George had kidnapped Harry and Draco one evening in the middle of exams, insisting the two First Years needed a break, and dinner, with their favorite Gryffindors. In truth, it hadn't taken much convincing. 

"Still had three inches of its tail and both its hind feet!" Fred smirked. "Poor Ron, if it was midterms at least he'd only have to deal with a Howler. But he gets Mum live and in person, for two whole months." He quickly flipped over a pair of Bowtruckles as they started to smoke.

"Maybe if he spent more time studying and less time being a stupid git because his precious Boy Who Loved is a dirty Slytherin instead of a lion." Draco frowned as the card he turned over was a Giant Squid. Nearly all of the Exploding Snap cards had been turned over and the game was rapidly growing dangerous.

Harry snatched up two Krups and leaned back in his chair, awaiting the inevitable explosion. "I couldn't imagine being Gryffindor, no offense." He glanced over at George who had revealed the last card, another Giant Squid, the older boy shook his head and grinned, indicating it was alright. He opened his mouth to continue, but the cards on the table simultaneously exploded in Fred's face as he leaned over the table. They dissolved into giggles as he ran his hands over his eyebrows, ensuring they were both there.

"Blew them off once working on a new potion, not a good look for me." Satisfied he was still good looking, he banished the table they'd been using to play and stood up. "Well chaps, we'd best be heading off to our dorms. Wouldn't due to have you two falling asleep while brewing potions for Snape now mm?"

Harry and Draco easily made their way back to the dorms. He'd wondered, more than once how Fred and George managed to wander the castle at will, and yet he'd never heard of them getting caught. True, they had two years more experience, but it seemed to defy the odds. Maybe they could be convinced to share their secret.

He pulled the draped tight around his bed and sat up. Lately he'd been waiting until everyone else was asleep until he let himself drift off. That way he'd keep no one awake with his thrashing. As far as he knew, it wasn't bad enough to wake anyone up. Hopefully, once the stress of exams was over, his nightmares would go with it. He shuddered to think at the Dursley's reaction if he was to wake them up in the middle of the night, screaming. They'd lock him away for certain.

The easy, relaxed mood that had settled over him evaporated in a heartbeat as he realized that he would be returning to Number Four Privet Drive once the term was over. It was a sobering thought. He'd grown so used to the castle, with all its quirks and strangeness. Hogwarts was more home than that house had ever been. And the people more family than his blood. 

His last thought as he fell asleep was perhaps there was some way he could remain at Hogwarts over the summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's getting excited for book two? It's my least favorite of the series, so I'm hoping my Slytherin!Harry can spice things up for me!


	20. The One Where Exams Are Finally Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter than normal, but it seemed like such a good place to break!

Potions was the worst. Harry was confident he could brew the complex Forgetfulness potion, but with Snape standing over each of them in turn, scowling down at the cauldrons, he found himself second-guessing everything.

The normally cool dungeons were sweltering, summer heat combined with the simmering fires under each cauldron. He pushed his hair out of his face, blowing up in an effort to clear some of the heat-induced fog from his mind as he waited for the potion to brew for the required forty-five minutes. After carefully counting out four mistletoe berries into the mortar he began to crush it into a fine powder, glancing up to watch the stopwatch charm he'd cast over the simmering liquid. He added the remaining ingredients and grinned as the potion turned the precise color he'd been hoping for. He could feel Professor Snape's eyes on him as he stoppered his vial and neatly labelled it with his name, setting it on the desk, but he resolutely kept himself from meeting the dark eyes.

Only one exam remained, History of Magic. Harry had heard enough over the year to consider that with nearly any other teacher it would have been a simply fascinating class. As it was, Binns' class was a perfect excuse for a nap, however he didn't think that drooling on his exam would be enough to get him a passing grade. He frowned as he tried to remember the year of the wildcat Gargoyle strike. The dates all seemed to swim together and he groaned, hoping it was good enough. When Professor Binns told them to roll up their parchments and turn them in along with the AntiCheating Quills Draco and Harry thrust their fists into the air and cheered. They were free for a whole week!

As they left the classroom they could hear Hermione going through the exam with Ron, who looked particularly ill. Ron had never retaliated for the prank with the spiders. It was possible he did not know it was them, although they got detention, there had not been a change in the total number of gems in the large hourglass for Slytherin in the Great Hall. Either way, it would seem that for now at least the youngest Weasley was content to keep to himself. The rest of Gryffindor House seemed to have been distracted as well, and tensions between the houses had lessened somewhat. A welcome reprieve for students and teachers alike.

Although now that exams were finished most of the students were looking ahead to the Slytherin-Ravenclaw match on Saturday afternoon. Flint hadn't eased up with practices over the week of finals, until Snape stepped in and reminded him that a poor performance on the exams would prevent someone from playing. Grudgingly he cancelled Monday and Tuesday's three-hour practices and held only a short drill Wednesday evening.

"We flattened Gryffindor in the Quidditch Cup last year, and we're going to do it again!" had become his only pep talk. Flint reminded Harry of this as they stowed their book bags in the Common Room.

"Pretty sure he wouldn't care if we lost to every other team, so long as we beat Gryffindor," Pansy kept her voice down as they walked through the halls.

"Hufflepuff," Draco replied by way of explanation.

Harry was forced to agree. Snickering they made their way out of the castle and out onto the lawn beside the Great Lake. Just down the shore a ways, Fred and George were tickling the tentacles of the Giant Squid which had pushed itself up into the warm shallows. For a moment he considered walking over there. But, their friendship had always been quiet, not stirring up the prejudices of either house. As much as he liked the two, he didn't want to start something. Not when everything had finally begun to settle down.

Now that their exams were finished, he supposed it was time to resume their surveillance of Quirrell and Snape. But as he stretched out basking in the hot afternoon sun, he decided it was far too stuffy to get bothered about anything just then.

"Ugh, I am going to do absolutely nothing this week," Pansy huffed as she dropped down next to Harry, using his stomach as a pillow. "Last night I woke up in a panic and was tearing through my Transfiguration notes, until I remembered just before breakfast that we'd already done that one!"

"I kept dreaming that I showed up to the Potions practical, thinking it was Charms and forgot all of my tools." Draco leaned against a tree, arms folded behind his head, eyes closed as he enjoyed the summer sun.

They spent the afternoon lounging by the lake, talking about summer plans. Draco's father had owled him that if he scored sufficiently high enough on his exams a Quidditch tutor would be at his disposal, insuring he'd make the team next year. Pansy's parents had promised a trip to Milan for the summer Fashion Week. Harry told them he wasn't entirely sure, that wasn't quite the truth.

He didn't know exactly what his reception with the Dursley's would be, but it was not difficult to imagine that it would not be pleasant. Odds were good that he would spend his summer rising early to fix them breakfast, weeding the garden, and making up for the months spent at school.

"We'll be able to owl, right?" The teachers had begun to remind them all of the restrictions on under age magic that would come back into force when they returned home. Harry wasn't sure if the owls fell under that or not.

"Of course, although you'll want an international bird for sending letters when I'm in Italy."

Harry frowned, there was no way he'd be able to convince the Dursley's to take him anywhere magical, and even less of a chance they'd let him wander off somewhere on his own.

"Don't worry Harry, send your letters to Pansy with Hedwig to me, and I'll have one of Father's birds take them both." 

He smiled warmly at Draco, and then Pansy. He was not looking forward to going back to Privet Drive, but at least thing time, unlike the entire rest of his life... he had friends, and somewhere to look forward to escaping to. The others might talk about home, but to him, this right here was his home.

Not even the as of yet unsolved mystery of the Sorcerer's Stone and what Quirrell or Snape wanted with it was enough to prevent him from falling asleep that night. He only had a week left of his comfortable bed, filling meals, and lazy mornings - he intended to make the most of it. As he listened to the now familiar sounds of his room mates fast asleep he wondered how he was going to go back to a room all to himself. Or, he thought with a shudder, perhaps he would find himself shoved back in the cupboard again. But that was over a week away. He pushed the worries from his mind and wrapped himself in the soft blanket.

Long bony fingers bruised his shoulder as they shook him awake, a hand over his mouth stifled his scream and he looked over with wild eyes. Professor Snape knelt beside his bed his pale face drawn tight in... fear? Harry struggled against the strong arms holding him down. Against his resistance they tightened and then forcefully hauled him out of bed. Blaise, Draco and Nott slept away, oblivious to the fact that a Professor was kidnapping a student out of the dormitory.

"Listen to me Harry," Snape hissed in his ear. His black hair falling over his face as he struggled to pull Harry out of the room. "I made a stupid mistake, years before you were born. If you want more details, later I can give them to you. But right now I need your help."

Harry glared at him, still fighting violently against the arms that held him fast. They had made it to the Common Room, completely abandoned at this time of night. The moonlight, filtered through the lake, bathed the room in a pale green glow. A small fire still blazed in the fireplace, a spark of hope flourished in Harry's chest. Perhaps not everyone had gone to sleep? Someone could come and find him?

Snape growled, his black eyes scanning the room and then he pulled Harry down the passage and out into the halls. As he walked several of the paintings began to stir, a few seemed rather alarmed to see the Head of Slytherin House hauling one of his students through the castle. He cursed and shouldered his way into an abandoned room.

He shifted Harry's small body to one side and drew his wand. Harry tried screaming, but the hand over his mouth muffled the sound. Strong fingers wrapped around his, holding Harry's wand. Harry took a deep breath through his nose and resigned himself to the fact that he was about to die.

Snape maneuvered the wand so it was pointing at his own chest, his hand curled around Harry's, and hissed, "Veritas." A stream of pure white light shot out from the wand and snaked around his slender neck. "Quickly, Harry. You have three questions. I am bound to answer truthfully. But time is of the essence. Hopefully, you will trust me after this." His voice trailed off and his face went slack.

The smaller boy shoved himself away from the tall man, who was now standing in front of him with a collar of white light made up of three individual strands settled around his throat. The brightness casting ominous shadows across his features.

Harry stared at him, his eyes flicking down to his wand and back up to Snape. He asked the first thing that came to mind. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Snape looked at him, a pained expression in his eyes as the rest of his face remained impassive. "No, Harry no..." his voice was strained as the first white strand faded away.

"What do you want with the stone?"

"To protect it," he gasped. "From the Dark Lord." The white thread pulsed bright and another thread disappeared.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "The Dark Lord, you mean Voldemort?"

"I do." Snape raised his sleeve revealing a stylized skull with snakes branded onto his arm. "If I refer to him as anything else, the Dark Mark triggers terrible pain." The white light around his throat dissipated as he answered the final question. He sunk to his knees infront of Harry. "Please, Harry I need your help. I will answer any questions you have, after... if we survive."

Harry eyed him over, knowing he needed to come to a decision quickly, and nodded. "What do you need?"


	21. The One Where Bad Things Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second to last chapter :gasp:
> 
> I can't believe I'm nearly done. This has been a blast to write, and your comments have totally kept me going. I've been blown away at the people who come back chapter after chapter, thank you all!
> 
> For the next book, I will be back to the real world and required to work, rather than hang out by the lake and write fanfic all day. I'm thinking of sticking to a weekly posting schedule, hopefully keep new content coming up fresh and on a regular basis.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter, and as always I love to hear from you! <3

Severus slumped forward in relief and put both hands on Harry's shoulders, his black eyes meeting the green. "Time to prove why we broke the rules and put you on the Quidditch team." He stood, straightening his robes around him. "Hurry." He strode from the room, robes billowing behind him. Harry looked down at his bare feet and then shrugged, following him quietly.

They made their way through the castle, and Harry realized with a jolt that they were headed towards the third-floor corridor where Fluffy was hidden. Even as he realized it he lifted a hand to his scar, pressing against it in an effort to stop the pain, and he knew there was no where else they would have been going. He squared his shoulders, and walked through the door.

A harp was set off to one side. It had been charmed to play a soft melody, and Fluffy was curled in a corner, sound asleep. The trap door had been thrown open, and Severus was standing next to it, looking at Harry. He beckoned him over, and Harry moved to stand beside him, looking down into blackness.

"It is a short drop," Severus bent down to whisper in Harry's ear. "You will land on Devil's Snare."

"And try to relax, right?" Harry's voice had a nervous tremble to it. When Snape nodded he offered the man a faint smile. Severus motioned for him to go first.

Harry gripped his wand tightly and studied the other man's face. It was tense, pained, and more than a little anxious. But there was a certainty, a calm that was now over-riding all of that which gave him the courage to step out over the dark trap door, and drop down.

The moment his feet came into contact with the plant-floor the vines wrapped around his ankles. They tightened and began to snake their way up his legs. For a moment he felt himself begin to panic, his heart racing and he struggled and pulled against the plant.

"Relax, Harry," Severus' soft melodic voice drifted down, reminding him how to combat the Devil's Snare that had now made its way to his neck. He focused on the sound of Snape's voice, softly encouraging him. At first the vines pulled him down, deeper into their tangled nest. Slowly, he felt the tendrils loosen their grip and he dropped down onto a rough stone floor.

He scrambled off to the side as he heard Severus land on the vines, and within moments the professor had gracefully landed beside him. Harry looked around, a single stone archway lead off the room, the only way forward. They walked in silence down the hall, the walls damp and covered in moss. The only sound was the gentle drip of water, although he could not see the source.

A sound drifted up the passage way to them, a soft rustling and clinking. Harry looked up at Severus, his expression questioning. "Up ahead, is why I need you." He looked back down the dark corridor, and saw light, shifting against the damp walls.

The chamber was brightly lit, the domed ceiling looked as though the sun was shining through it, although Harry knew that must have been an enchantment. On the far side of the room was a large, heavy-looking wooden door. It's only adornment a silver door knob and ancient looking keyhole. Between them and the door, were small fluttering creatures. Their wings flashing like gems in the enchanted sunlight.

Snape moved to the side, and returned with... a broomstick? Harry looked at the broom, and then back at the flying jewelled creatures. They were keys, hundreds and hundreds of keys flying lazily about the room.

"You're looking for a big, old-fashioned key, silver like the lock." Snape handed Harry the broom, and suddenly Harry understood.

"I'll get it," he promised confidently, climbing onto the broom and lifting off. It was one of the school brooms, sluggish and far less responsive than his Nimbus 2000. He wove through the flock of keys getting a feel for it, his eyes scanning the room in the same way he scanned the Quidditch pitch for the Snitch. 

It didn't take longer than a minute for him to spot it. Large bright blue wings, one bent, causing it to list to the side as it if it had already been caught and roughly shoved into the keyhole. 

He dove and wound his way through the keys, his eyes never leaving the large silver one. Harry began to believe it was nearly sentient as it dodged and avoided him, turning at angles that were impossible for him to follow. He wore it down, slowly herding it towards the wall. With a burst of speed he hadn't thought the school brooms were capable of, he dove down and slapped his hand against the cold stone, trapping it with a crunch.

The moment his fingers closed around the large silver key, the others stopped. As one, they turned, and flew at him at full speed. "Professor! The door!" Harry shouted as he leaned flat against the handle and raced for the door. Without waiting to land he thrust the key into the lock and threw open the door. He and Severus tumbled through, and slammed it shut behind them.

The wooden door shook with the force of hundreds of keys hitting it, Severus kept his shoulder pressed against it, keeping it closed. When the sounds quieted, he looked at Harry and offered the boy a faint smile.

"Thank you. I tried that on my own, but I do not have the reflexes I did when I was younger." He moved to open the door. "It's too dangerous for you to contin-" He frowned, and pushed more forcefully on the door. It did not budge. Severus cursed under his breath and then fixed Harry with a serious expression. "You will have to stay here. Keep trying the door. When it opens, go to Professor McGonnagall."

Harry nodded, somewhat reluctantly, and then turned to look at the room. It was pitch black, the only light a small torch near the door. As Severus strode out, wand at the ready, into the blackness, the room exploded in a brilliant light. They blinked, clearing their vision, and revealed a truly gigantic chess set in the middle of the room.

The pieces were larger than Hagrid, and looked carved out of stone. Nearest them was black, gleaming in the bright light of torches all around the board. At the far side of the room, the white pieces glowed, and just behind the king, was another door.

Severus studied the board, his arms crossed. "Very clever Minerva," he muttered and then walked out onto the checkered board. He stepped up next to the king-side knight and touched it. The stone rippled and then transformed into life, the horse danced anxiously on the square as the knight astride it struggled to rein it in. "We need to play our way across?" The knight nodded. "Very well, your horse please." The knight dismounted, bowed to him and walked off to wait at the side while Severus easily mounted the horse. Harry watched curiously, waiting for white to make its first move. Nothing happened. "Oh very clever Minerva." His voice was tight. "Harry?"

"Yes Professor?"

"It would appear that you must play as well. Take the bishop next to me, if you please." The chessmen appeared to have heard him. The piece in question rippled to life and strode off the board to join the knight. Harry took his place.

As soon as he stepped onto the square, white made its first move as a pawn strode forward two places.

"Professor? I don't suppose this is Muggle chess..." Harry's knees were shaking and his worried voice echoed through the room.

Severus directed the black pawn and then looked down at Harry. For once, his eyes seemed soft, "No, I would not think so."

Each time a piece was taken the capturing piece would smash it to bits. Before long the board was covered in broken pieces of stone and a fine layer of dust covered everything. Severus was a skilled, but ruthless, player. Moving his side forward with purpose, not afraid to sacrifice in order to gain an advantage. Harry counted, for each piece they lost, they captured at least one white in return. Then, Severus stopped.

"Professor?" Harry was at the far side of the board, having just captured the queen-side castle.

"Nearly there," Severus muttered. He continued to talk to himself under his breath, surveying the board with a deep look of concentration. Then, Harry saw it.

"Sir, no!"

Severus' voice was soft, regretful, "The queen will take me, and that leaves you free to put the king into checkmate. There's no other way Harry. Rarely has evil ever been defeated without sacrifice. Quirrell must be stopped. For the potions, take the smallest bottle. Drink it all and the flames will not harm you."

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but the older man had already urged the horse forward. It seemed slow-motion as the white queen turned her blank face towards Severus and raised her sword high above her head. The stone sword came down, piercing the side of the horse. It screamed as it fell. 

"Professor!" Harry yelled, about to run towards the fallen figure.

"No, Harry, you're still playing." The voice was thready and weak. But, at least he was still alive. Harry moved three spaces.

"Check mate!" His voice echoed through the chamber. The white king shattered, exploding into small rocks that crashed to the board. Harry ran over to Severus' side, he was trapped under the body of the large horse that had reverted back to stone.

"You have to keep going, there's no time. Even if you could get this statue off of me, my legs are broken." Severus reached up and squeezed Harry's hand when it looked as though Harry might burst into tears. "It is ridiculously unfair, I know. To expect a First Year to stop a fully-trained wizard. But you can do it, I have faith in you."

Harry stood, dusting off his pyjamas and picking up his wand where it had fallen when he dropped to his knees. "I'll come back," he promised, "And find someone to help you. I was lucky once, maybe I'll get lucky again, mm?" Taking a deep breath, he walked across the board and through the door on the far side.

His eyes started watering as soon as he opened the door. In the room beyond, a giant troll lie unconscious in the center. He gagged, and darted through around its legs to the next door.

This room was dark, lit only by a wall of black flames that surrounded him as soon as he walked in. In the center, a table held seven bottles, all various sizes and shades. In front of them rested a scroll.

Not wasting any time reading it, he reached for the smallest bottle and drank the remaining bit in a single gulp. His body felt like ice and he moved quickly towards the flicking black fire. He put a hand out experimentally and felt... nothing. Steeling himself, he stepped forward. His vision went dark, all he could see was black flame. Then, he was through, into the last chamber.

Standing in front of him, facing away, was Professor Quirrell.

"You are far too nosy to be allowed to live, Mr Potter." He didn't move, but he waved his wand behind his shoulder and ropes sprung out of the tip and wrapped themselves around him. Harry realized what it was that had captivated the other man's attention - the Mirror of Erised. "Wait there, if you please, I need to figure this out." He paced in front of it, tapping his wand against the frame. "The final piece of the puzzle. Of course Dumbledore would have to have come up with something... clever."

Harry watched him, unable to move.

"I see myself, presenting the stone to my Master. But, where is it hiding?" He paced around the mirror, muttering angrily. "It's there, in the mirror! Do I break it?"

With a start, Harry realized what he wanted more than anything in the world was to find the stone before Quirrell does. So, he reasoned, if he managed to get a look in the mirror, he should see himself finding it. Slowly, he edged to the left, trying to move quietly. The ropes were too tight, he fell, landing hard on his side, but Quirrell ignored him.

"What does this mirror do?" His voice had taken on a panicked edge. "Master, help me."

Harry's blood ran cold as he heard another voice. "Use the boy..." it rasped. Quirrell spun and glared at him. With a wave of his wand the ropes fell away and he hauled him to his feet, dragging him in front of the mirror.

"What do you see? Tell me," he hissed.

He looked small and pale in the mirror. His pajamas torn and covered in dust. He looked scared. But then his reflection smiled at him and reached into the pocket and pulled out a glittering red stone. As it dropped it back into the pocket, Harry felt the weight against his leg. 

He had the Stone!

"I... I'm being signed onto Puddlemere United. Youngest seeker ever."

He didn't get to finish as Quirrell shoved him out of the way, a stream of curses as he glared into the glass.

"The boy lies," rasped the strange voice again. "I will speak with him. Face... to face." Quirrell's face paled, but he reached up with shaking hands and began to unwrap his turban. Then, he turned away from Harry.

Harry opened his mouth to scream but nothing would come out. Instead of the bald back of Quirrell's head was a grotesque face, pushing its way out of the skin. The blood red eyes flickered and it hissed, sounding like a snake. 

"Harry... Potter. Do you see what I have become? Mere shadow and vapor. I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

The words woke something up in Harry and he stumbled backwards, trying to get away. Voldemort laughed, a truly hideous sound.

"Your parents died, because of you. Your mother, trying to protect you. She didn't have to die Harry. If you join me, you can be with them again. Give me the Stone."

"NEVER!"

Harry ran towards the door, desperate to reach it. But Voldemort shrieked and Quirrell's body sprinted towards him, closing the gap, his hand closing over Harry's wrist. It felt as though his scar had exploded. Pain shot through his body and he screamed, struggling to free himself. 

Then, Quirrell's screams joined his own and the man wrenched backwards. He cradled the hand that had been holding Harry, staring at it in horror as it blistered.

"Get him you idiot!" Voldemort screamed as Harry tried to get to his feet, the pain in his head making it impossible to think. Quirrell dove forwards, tackling Harry to the ground and wrapping his fingers around his neck. It felt as though his head would be torn in half with the pain that burst out from his scar. But through the haze Harry could see Quirrell writing in agony. Both of his arms began to look burned.

Harry stopped struggled and lifted both of his hands, grabbing at Quirrell's face. The man screamed, rolling off him. Encouraged at the reaction, Harry leapt at him, ignoring Voldemort's shouts for Quirrell to kill him. He grabbed where ever he could, holding on tightly as the skin split and burst.

He could hear Voldemort shouting, mixed with Quirrell's screams, and another set of screams he realized were his own. His scar burned, and then... Quirrell was pulled away from him. And he tumbled down into blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several parts of this chapter are taken almost directly from the book. In particular the fight with Voldemort. 
> 
> I do not own any of the characters, or the story. And I have no desire to make money off of any of this. Just writing for fun!


	22. The One Where Everyone Goes Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! Holy crap the story is finished!

Harry woke to the sounds of an argument.

"He is a BOY Albus. Eleven years old." Severus' voice was ice cold and sent shivers down Harry's spine.

"He is the Boy Who Lived, Slytherin or not. He has now stood up to Voldemort twice, and lived." Dumbledore's response was equally cold, and gave Harry shivers of an entirely different sort.

"You sent him that cloak of his, didn't you?"

"Of course, it was his father's he deserves to have it."

Severus made an unpleasant sound in the back of his throat. "He will want answers."

"You will give him the ones we discussed, nothing more. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Headmaster."

Dumbledore muttered something softly and then Harry heard footsteps. "Call me when he is awake."

There was the sound of a door closing, and then the rustling of blankets and the soft whisper of a spell being cast. The curtain that hung, separating Harry's bed from Severus' parted, revealing the Potion's Master reclining against a mountain of cushions.

Against his protests, Harry crawled out of his bed and padded across the floor to the bed.

"You heard a bit of that then?" Severus spoke softly, studying Harry's concerned face.

"Yeah, you don't trust him? Do you?"

At this, the older man's lips curled in a faint hint of a smile. He patted the bed next to him, "Sit down Harry, if Poppy comes in and you're standing she'll have both our heads." Harry obliged, but remained silent, waiting for the answer to his question.

"It is far less black and white than most people would lead you to believe. And a great many reasons for my particular view are... not appropriate for your age." Harry began to sputter about him promising to answer his questions and Severus raised a hand, stopping him. "You are a boy Harry. And much has been sacrificed to ensure that you were able to have as much of a 'normal' childhood as is possible. But to answer your question, I do trust Albus to do whatever is necessary to prevent the Dark Lord from returning."

Harry's eyes widened as memories of his confrontation with Quirrell came flooding back to him. That terrible face on the back of his head, and the skull-splitting pain that came from his scar. He lifted a hand to press against his scar in memory of the ache.

"Yes, Quirrell was not after the Stone for himself, but for his Master. And although he failed this time, thanks to you, I have no doubt that he will try again."

"Thanks to me? I didn't..." Harry trailed off, looking down at his hands and remembering the effect they had on Quirrell.

"It is an old magic Harry. So old that most wizards alive today have forgotten it completely. You were loved, by both of your parents, so very much," Severus' tone held just the slightest hint of bitterness, but he continued. "They died, protecting you, holding their love for you in their hearts. That kind of sacrifice does not go unrewarded. Their deaths, standing up to the Dark Lord for your sake, cast a spell on you. One that continues to this day. He cannot bear to touch you."

Harry swallowed, blinking back tears, uncertain of what to say or how to respond. Severus gestured around the room, changing the topic of conversation ever so slightly.

"What happened with you and Quirrell is of course a secret. And so, the entire school knows." The room was full of candy, flowers and cards. "Misters Fred and George Weasley attempted to send you a toilet seat, Merlin knows why. But I believe Madam Pomfrey felt it was not entirely appropriate for a hospital." Severus reached over and grabbed a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, handing it to Harry.

He took it, ripping the top off, "Is the Stone...?"

"Destroyed. Nicholas and his wife agreed that it was far too dangerous to risk another attempt."

Harry nodded, sucking on a toffee bean, "He will try again, won't he?"

Severus sighed, his dark eyes pained as he looked at the small boy sitting on the edge of his bed digging into the box of candies. "Would that I could lie and tell you that he wouldn't. But, he will."

"Why me though?"

"Harry, you must forgive me. I have been sworn not to tell you." He closed his eyes for a moment and cleared his throat. "But you are not unprotected. Your parents' protection, your family, friends, and your House." His eyes being closed, he missed the twisted expression on Harry's face at the mention of his family. Harry had schooled his features again by the time they were opened.

"I am a Malfoy! Let me in! He's my friend!" the unmistakeable sound of Draco's voice brought a smile to Harry's face.

Madam Pomfrey bustled in, looking agitated, an expression that only grew worse as she saw Harry sitting on Severus' bed and not in his own. "Bed!" she admonished. "Your own, if you please Mr Potter. Your friends have been asking for you for days."

"Days?" he blurted out, already scrambling to his bed.

"Yes, you have been asleep for three days. And if you promise to rest, quietly, in your own bed then I shall allow you five minutes."

"I promise!" he slipped under the white linen sheets and folded his hands neatly on the bedspread.

She nodded and turned to the door, letting Draco and Pansy file in. Pansy threw herself on top of him, followed closely by Draco.

"Harry! We've been so worried, everyone's been frightened." Madam Pomfrey shot her a look and Pansy pushed off the bed, sitting at his side and lowered her voice. "The entire school's been talking."

Draco settled onto the other side and nodded in agreement. "So what happened?"

Harry looked over at Severus, who nodded his head fractionally. And so Harry told them the story. The entire story, leaving nothing out. They jumped and shrieked in all the right places, and when he got to the part about Voldemort, Draco nearly fell off the bed. He leaned forward, his voice low. "Dumbledore was the one who sent me the Invisibility Cloak."

Both Draco and Pansy narrowed their eyes. Pansy was the first to speak, "Do you think he wanted you to face You-Know-Who?"

"If he did, that's... that's horrible!" A soft grunt of agreement came from the general direction of Severus' bed, but the Potion's Master was apparently absorbed in a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Dumbledore is... odd." Harry finally spoke. "I think he knows most of what goes on at Hogwarts, probably other places too. And was arranging things like... a chess match."

Pansy still looked put out, but Draco nodded. "Well, you need to get him to convince Madam Pomfrey to let you out by tomorrow night. It's the Leaving Feast. Gryffindor won, without you we got flattened by Ravenclaw. But you can't miss the food."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the appearance of Madam Pomfrey. "Out! You've had nearly half an hour. And Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with Harry." His friends were hustled out, and then he was alone with the Headmaster. Dumbledore closed the curtains and cast a few charms that Harry couldn't quite hear. Although if he had to guess they prevented anyone from listening in.

"Sir?" Harry spoke before he could say anything. "Might I be allowed to stay at Hogwarts for the summer?"

Dumbledore looked over at Harry and put on a cheerful tone. "What? No, of course not dear boy. Your family is expecting you. And you wouldn't want to miss time with them to be stuck up in this drafty old castle." Despite the cheery tone, it was clear there was to be no further discussion on the matter.

"I imagine you have some questions?" Dumbledore looked down at him over his half-moon spectacles with an indulgent expression.

"Just one. Why did he come after me?"

"Alas, the one question I cannot answer. I thought perhaps you'd like to know how you could get the Stone, and not Quirrell." He didn't wait for an answer, but launched into an explanation of how the mirror had been spelled to only allow someone who did not wish to use the Stone to retrieve it.

Harry nodded at the appropriate places, and thanked the man politely when he said that Harry would be permitted to attend the feast tomorrow so long as he continued to rest until then.

After he left, Harry hopped out of bed quickly and pulled the curtains back again. He hurriedly slipped back under his covers before Madam Pomfrey could see.

"Professor?" Severus lowered the newspaper and looked over at the small boy lying against the sheets. "I don't want to be his chess piece."

"No Harry, neither do I."

The Great Hall was awashed in scarlet and gold as Harry made his way in. Gryffindor banners streamed from the ceiling, and a large one hung behind the Head Table. As soon as he was spotted the chattered died down, and people craned their necks to get a good look. He flushed as they started talking even louder than before, and he hurriedly took his seat between Draco and Pansy. Before he could say anything, Dumbledore stood and clapped his hands.

"Now, before I present the House Cup, it would seem there are points which need rewarding." He turned and smiled at Harry, who shrunk down in his seat at the attention. "To Mr. Harry Potter. For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Slytherin house, one hundred points."

The Slytherin table exploded into applause, anyone who could reach was leaning over and patting Harry on the back, congratulating him.

"Yes, if I have done my math correctly, it would seem that a change in decoration is needed." He waved his hands and the banners fluttered, as though touched by an impossible wind. When they settled, the scarlet and gold had been replaced by silver and green - a Slytherin banner now hung behind the Head Table.

Professor McGonnagall stood stiffly and walked over to Professor Snape, extending a hand in congratulations. He took it, a pleased smirk on his pale features, and glanced over to Harry. Their eyes met and Harry lifted his glass in salute to the Potions Master.

"Oh just look at Weasley!" Pansy hissed, and Draco and Harry turned to look over at the Gryffindor table where the young red-headed boy looked ready to spit nails. Indeed, the only two that looked evenly remotely non-murderous at that table were Fred and George, who were happily digging into the feast.

And then it was over. They were aboard the Hogwarts Express, pulling into the station at King's Cross. Harry changed into his Muggle clothes slowly, savoring the last bit of the wizarding world that he would be permitted. Draco had insisted that he come visit at the end of summer, and promised that his father would be alright with it.

Just before Harry stepped down onto the platform, Draco pressed a package into his hands. "Batteries!" he said, a pleased grin on his face. "Father went into Muggle London and got them for you." Harry just blinked at the other boy, too shocked to speak. "Only, you'd said your batteries were dying, and that your relatives don't like to get you new things much. There's all different sorts, because he said he wasn't sure which you needed. And something called a Charger, the Muggles at the shop said it was useful although he wasn't sure why." Draco rambled on until Harry threw his arms around him, hugging him tight, his eyes wet with tears. Draco returned the hug and nobly did not comment on Harry's wet eyes as they pulled away.

"Tell your father thank you," he croaked.

"Tell him yourself!" Draco grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him towards a tall, elegantly dressed man with shoulder-length blond hair.

"Father, this is Harry Potter."

Lucius smiled and shook Harry's hand. "I've heard a lot about you, from Draco," he added at the bashful look on Harry's face."

"There you are!" Uncle Vernon waddled up, his face splotchy red and purple with the effort. Aunt Petunia and Dudley cowered behind him, no small feat as Dudley seemed to have doubled in size since September.

"Ahh, you must be Harry's relatives," Lucius turned and offered a hand to Vernon.

Vernon ignored the hand and reached out, grabbing Harry by the back of his shirt. "Hurry up boy, the trip's been long enough we've not got time for you to stand around gabbing!"

He let himself be hauled off, giving a wave to Draco and his father, and a smile that hopefully put them at ease. A thought had just occured to him, Dudley did not know he couldn't use magic outside of school... the summer might not be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the story! I hope you liked it, I'll be starting on the next one shortly. I am also considering changing up the unfinished story I have on here and working it into this universe eventually.
> 
> Another idea I had was writing some small one-shots from different character's POVs. Include a short-story here and there about say, Fred and Draco when that finally happens.
> 
> So, keep an eye out for the next book, and thank you again for all the comments, kudos, and encouragement! Couldn't have managed to finish it without you! <3


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